


Fell Far from the Tree

by Dammit_Hawke, LinnyBear



Series: Canticle of Bethany [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Humor, Gen, What if Hawke's Daughter were the Inquisitor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-30
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-04-24 04:37:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 19,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4905739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dammit_Hawke/pseuds/Dammit_Hawke, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LinnyBear/pseuds/LinnyBear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[“Will you tell me what’s going on?”<br/>“It would be… easier to show you.” The Seeker helped her up.<br/>“Did always love a good field trip.” The girl muttered under her breath.<br/>The Seeker frowned, looking her over. “Tell me, what is your name? We could not find anyone by your description invited to the Conclave.”<br/>“No, you wouldn’t.” The girl almost smirked. “Mom was invited, not me. I’m Hawke. Beth Hawke.”</p><p>Understanding slowly dawned on the Seeker’s face, her body going more rigid than usual. “...The Champion’s daughter.”]</p><p> </p><p>  <b>When the breach opens, the world is rocked. At it’s heart, Marian Hawke’s daughter, Beth, finds herself hailed as Andraste’s Herald.</b></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Waking up

Light filters into the dusty cell. The guards keep their swords trained on the girl shackled to the floor, though she hasn’t moved or shown signs of stirring in some time. Sweat drips down one of their faces -- a boy, no older than 17, just lucky to be out of Denerim that morning. The other soldiers exchange looks now and then, wondering when, if ever, someone will come to deal with their charge.

 

She isn’t even awake. Why do they need so many trained on her?

 

Behind him, a far off door finally opens, hard and sure steps making their way toward the cell. The soldiers all straighten, eyes locking back on the prisoner.

 

Maker, but the prisoner is so small.

 

She seems to stir, finally, when her hand flashes a blinding green. It’s been doing that so often, the soldiers don’t even wince at the sight anymore. But she does. She flinches, cries out in pain. How has it not woken her sooner?

 

Her dark hair falls to hide most of her face, but it’s clear she’s finally done recovering however she had to. For now, at least. One of the soldiers nearest the door knocks on it three times, signalling to the others that the girl is awake. As one, the soldiers take a step closer to her, swords pointed directly for her neck in case she gets any bright ideas, despite her restraints.

 

The door swings open, lighting the otherwise dim cell. The Divine’s right and left hands stride in, one with righteous purpose and the other with calculating eyes.

 

The soldiers sheath their weapons at the flick of the Seekers wrist, watching as she circles the girl. The soldier doesn’t blame her for staring at the ground instead of her captors, not really. Even when you’re utterly innocent, the Seeker is a terrifying sight.

 

“Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now.” The Seeker leans in, glaring at the girl. “The conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead. Except for you.”

 

The girl seems to shrink under her words, drawing in on herself. Her hand crackles again, sparks bursting from it; she doesn’t cry out, this time. She grits her teeth and tries to act like it doesn’t feel like a hot brand being pressed right into her palm, ripping it open.

 

“Explain this.” The Seeker takes her wrist and holds it as high as her stocks will allow. The girl twists away, as if the worst mistake she could make would be letting them see her face.

 

“Haven’t the faintest clue. But if you figure it out, let me know. Maybe it’ll stop.” Her voice is small and breathy, clearly Fereldan or Marcher. So young, though. How old is she?

 

“Do not lie to me.” The Seeker drops her wrist roughly and almost seems ready to say or do more -- if it weren’t for the Sister, stepping forward with a hand on the Seeker’s shoulder to force distance between them.

 

“We need her, Cassandra.” The Sister is insistent, but the Seeker complies and folds her arms.

 

“Do you really need me for this? Do you really think I’m dangerous?” The girl finally looks up, then. It is still hard to tell, but she can’t be older than 16. Still, her eyes are piercing. Even in the dark, they seem sharp and bright, glowing like lyrium.

 

“You may be a child, but we are no fools.” The Sister kneels in front of her. “I’ve known a single child who could raise the dead, wreak enough havoc to nearly devour an entire village. All by mistake. No. We can not be certain if you are dangerous. Just tell us what you remember.”

 

The Sister holds her gaze for a few breaths before the girl finally looks away, defeated. “I know I ran. Something chased me. Then a woman appeared.”

 

This cstches the Sister’s interest. “A woman?”

 

“She reach out for me, but I…” She shakes her head, letting her hair fall to hide her face again. Across the room, the Seeker sighs.

 

“Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take her to the rift.”

 

The sister nods and leaves without another word. Once the door is shut again, the Seeker kneels before her, working a key in the lock of her stocks, then chains.

 

“Did anyone else live?” The girl asks under her breath.

 

The Seeker pauses, glancing at her face briefly. “Only you.”

 

“Will you tell me what’s going on?”

 

“It would be… easier to show you.” The Seeker helps her up.

 

“Did always love a good field trip.” The girl mutters under her breath.

 

The Seeker frowns, looking her over. “Tell me, what is your name? We could not find anyone by your description invited to the Conclave.”

 

“No, you wouldn’t.” The girl almost smirks. “Mom was invited, not me. I’m Hawke. Beth Hawke.”

 

Understanding slowly dawns on the Seeker’s face, her body going more rigid than usual. “...The Champion’s daughter.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi I love you guys. I should be working on other things. I should have posted this first chapter here yesterday. I'm trash.
> 
> I'm sorry.
> 
> I love your faces!
> 
> Thank you for existing.


	2. Guilty Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's one of the first things you learn, as a child.  
> The grass is green. Fire is hot. Magic is dangerous. Dad glows. The sky is blue.  
> When the Seeker leads Beth outside, the grass is still green, and the magic crackling from her fist still feels quite dangerous, but the sky.
> 
> The sky isn’t so blue.

It's one of the first things you learn, as a child.

 

The grass is green. Fire is hot. Magic is dangerous. Dad glows. The sky is blue.

 

When the Seeker leads Beth outside, the grass is still green, and the magic crackling from her fist still feels quite dangerous, but the sky.

 

The sky isn’t so blue.

 

“We call it the Breach.” Cassandra tells her, both of them staring to where black and gray clouds swirl into a green vortex. “A massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour. It’s not the only such rift; just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the Conclave.”

 

“The one you think I caused.” Beth cuts her eyes to Cassandra, testing the strength of the rope still keeping her wrists tightly bound.

 

“Many do.” Cassandra lifts her head. “Whether you were the cause or not will be a matter for later. Unless we act, the Breach may grow until it swallows the world.”

 

Above them, a flash of green lightning shatters around the Breach, not a moment later the mark on Beth’s hand starts crackling and sparking in kind. She falls to her knees, crying out in pain.  For a moment she wonders if asking them to just cut it off would be something too close to a surrender.

 

Marker, it would. Mom would never let her live it down.

 

“Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads. And it IS killing you. It may be the key to stopping this. But there isn’t much time.”

 

“You sound so sure of yourself.” She grits her teeth, waits for the pain to lessen enough that it doesn’t feel like she's going to set something on fire just by touching it. “How do you know it may be the key?”

 

“We don’t.” The Seeker looks up at the Breach. “But right now, it’s our only hope.”

 

“And what are the chances I survive this? Are you gambling that I’m just full of luck?”

 

“We don’t know.” It takes Cassandra’s help for her to be able to stand again. “You are your mother’s daughter, though. One has to hope.”

 

“Right. No pressure.”

 

She stumbles after the woman, trying her best to ignore the leers cast her way from everyone they past.

 

“They have decided your guilt. Most Holy is dead and you walked free unscathed. They mourn their Divines passing too soon, and you are the only one they can find to blame. It was the last chance for peace between mages and Templars. A Holy war was almost avoided at the Conclave. We fear any hope for that compromise is now dashed.”

 

Beth keeps her eyes on the dirt path and the snow lining it. It’s not her fault, it can’t be. None of it can. Her being there couldn’t have caused all this, not really. But no words would convince anyone of that. The weight of that knowledge settles uneasily in the pit of her stomach, the way it does any time she eats something her dad’s cooked too long. Soon, the Seeker’s leading her to pushing the doors of a gate open, pulling her to a stop on a stone bridge.

 

“We lash out like the skies, but we must think beyond ourselves, as she did, until the Breach is sealed.” Cassandra pulls out a dagger and takes Beth’s wrists, splitting the rope to free her. “There will be a Trial. I can promise no more. Come now, it is not far.”

 

\---

 

It isn’t far at all. She should have been shocked that the Seeker let her keep the staff she found along the way, but instead all she feels is relief. It isn’t like the one she had at home -- the one mom got her for her birthday, that she kept in her room and polished religiously; the one dad sometimes still sent weary glances at when he thought she wasn’t looking.

 

Mom has warned her about demons plenty. Dad’s probably told her more things to try and scare her from them then mom would like -- it took her a few years to figure it out. Actually facing a demon is different, though.

 

The smell of death is thick in the air, hanging on the hair on the back of Beth’s neck. It pulls at the corners of her nerves, keeping her more alert than she should be. Good. Alert was good. Alert is always good in a fight, that’s what mom said, right?

 

The soldiers on hand are fighting off the demons as best as they can when Beth and Cassandra jump in to help. Her spells aren’t wonderful, she admits; the staff is off balance in her hands and the cold backfires a few times. Cassandra’s better off for her part, hacking through the demons with sword and shield as though they are nothing. That, and the bite of ice now covering Beth’s fingers, distracts her enough that a demon almost gets the jump on her.

 

If it wasn’t for a bolt that shattered through it’s head at the last moment.

 

“Pigeon!” A familiar voice makes Beth whirl around, now that she’s safe. “Please tell me your parents know you’re here.”

 

“Uncle Varric.” Beth’s mouth goes dry, skidding a foot back. As if it will help her case, she hides her marked hand behind her back. “Ok, see, funny story about that--”

 

Before she can say anything else, a tall, bald elf runs up beside her. “Quickly! Before more come through!” He takes her pulsating hand from behind her back, jerking her around so she faces the rift and thrusts it toward it.

 

The pain isn’t as bad as before. Not as blinding. Maybe it’s the ice coating her fingers dulling it. Still, when the rift is gone and he releases her, relief washes through her. She gapes, gasping for breath and marveling up at the man.

 

“What- What did you do?”

 

“I did nothing.” He steps back, grinning. “The credit is yours. It seems the mark on your hand is the key to our salvation.”

 

She glances from the still angry mark on her hand to where the small rift used to be. “Glad to be good for something.”

 

Behind her, Varric’s shouldering Bianca and giving her a look that, in Beth’s experience, does not come without a lecture. “Pigeon.”

 

She turns to him, her cheeks heating up. “I can explain,” She holds up her hands in surrender -- which is the wrong thing to do, it turns out. He gives her a dubious look and she sighs. “Ok, not really, but-” The sky cuts her off with an angry clap of thunder, her mark once again bringing her to her knees.

 

Cassandra steps forward, helping her up.

 

“So what was it, Seeker,” Varric’s watching her as if she’s a viper about to strike. “Got tired of stabbing my books, so you decided kidnapping Hawkes kid was better bait?”

 

“I did not bring her to the Conclave.” Cassandra bites back. “I did not know her identity until half an hour ago, I assure you.” She glances down at Beth, motioning that she and the others all follow her. “It is as much a shock for me as for you. One that will be dealt with AFTER the Breach.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hot off the presses at least I did something today
> 
> Thank you for existing!


	3. Waking Again

They couldn’t close the Breach.

They tried. Maker, did they try. The Temple of Sacred Ashes, surrounded on all corners by archers, was in shambles when Beth and the others arrived.

She’d heard whispers about Red Lyrium most of her life, but seeing it and seeing the look on Varric’s face when they picked around the ominous spikes was a different matter entirely. Varric took her arm, leading her carefully, protectively, while the Seeker glared up at the sky.

When she wakes up, after, someone else is shuffling in the room -- though where the room is, she can’t begin to guess. Her body is still sore, everything is sore, and it takes a moment to sort out what Actually-Hurts and what Doesn’t-Hurt. 

She hears a throat clear across the room, and for the first time she makes herself open her eyes.

“Uncle Varric?”

“The one and only.”

He’s in a chair that doesn’t seem to fit the rest of the room -- it’s too nice, the leather too bright and clean compared. Beth sits up slowly, and someone else by the door seems about ready to drop the sheets in their arms.

“Ser.” The unfamiliar elf breathes. “Shall I inform the Lady Seeker?”

Varric hasn’t taken his eyes off Beth. “Go ahead. Tell her I’ll bring the bird by once she’s eaten something.” He stands, then, moving to a desk in the corner of the room to uncover a tray as the elf nods quickly and scrambles out of the room. Varric stops again beside Beth’s bed, setting the tray in her lap. “And you WILL eat something.”

Her left hand -- the one with the mark -- is bandaged so tightly that even if it were still hurting, she isn’t sure she would be able to feel it. She breaks the roll on the tray in half with clumsy fingers and takes a mockingly small bite, giving him a look that she hopes screams ‘there, is this good enough?’

He crosses his arms, a wall of patience.

“Alright, alright, I’m eating.” She mutters, taking a more acceptable bite. “So… How long was I out?”

“Do you want the truth, or a story?”

“Make the truth interesting.”

“Well see, here’s the thing about that.” He pulls a chair up beside the bed. “The interesting part is that the big nug-sucking demon died, and even though you didn’t close the hole… They don’t want you dead anymore.”

She nearly drops the rest of her bread. “Wait- What?”

“Yeah, weird right? That apostate’s calling it ‘stable’, so that’s good. But it’s still all up there. There’s still those little rifts too. Fun right?”

“But- it didn’t work. It’s still up there. I tried, I did what they said--”

“I know, I know you did, Pigeon.” He squeezes her ankle reassuringly. “What can I say? You’ve got your mom’s luck.”

“Maker watch over me.” She mutteres, stuffing the rest of the bread in her mouth.

“You don’t have her disdain for that Chantry stuff though.” He snorts, rubbing a hand over his chin.

“I like the Chant.” She shrugs, finishing up the last carrot on the tray. “It’s nice. People don’t listen to it right, though.”

“Yeah, welcome to the world, kid. People don’t listen to anything right.” He pushes himself to his feet with a groan. “Speaking of chanting, you ready to face the music? The Seeker’s not the most patient woman.”

“Running away isn’t an option?”

“Not this time.”

She sighs and pulls the blanket off, sliding out of the bed. 

Everyone is watching as Varric leads her toward the chantry. No matter what they’re doing, they seem to stop and stare, some saluting with their fists over their hearts. She keeps close to Varric, as if she can hide behind him. He’s only a few inches shorter than her, but still, she finds herself holding out hope.

Cassandra is waiting for them near the doors, nodding a greeting.

”I’m glad you have woken.” The Seeker looks Beth over with concern. “How do you feel?”

Beth cradles her wrapped hand to her chest and shrugs. “Do you want the truth, or a story?” Behind her, Varric fails miserably to suppress a laugh at her impression of him. Cassandra shoots him a dirty look, leading them further into the chantry. Beth manages a small smile to herself. “Uncle Varric says you don’t want to kill me anymore.”

Cassandra sighs. “We did not wish you dead.” She pauses, changes her mind. “I did not want you dead. But you are correct; your actions attempting to seal the Breach have brought peace to the minds of many, and convinced enough of your innocence.”

“But I DIDN’T close it.” Beth bites at a thumb nail, her eyes on the high ceiling of the chantry. “It didn’t work. It just kicked my butt more than the demons did.”

“This is true,” Cassandra allows. They stop outside a door at the end of the chantry and she leans against the frame. “But for now it is stable. It is not ideal, but it buys us time.”

Beth’s stomach clenches. “You want me to try again.”

“Not yet, but yes. We do. While the Breach remains we are all in terrible danger. Your mark is the only thing to have any effect on it.”

“But I can’t- I don’t-”

The panic must be clear on her face. Cassandra pushes off the wall and places her hands on Beth’s shoulders hushing her quietly.

“Not alone. No. We do not intend to have you try it again alone.” Her face is hard, lips pressed together tightly for a moment. “Solas assures us that your mark is very powerful, but not powerful enough. We have ideas -- but they can be discussed later.”

Beth swallows, doing her best not to squirm. She looks over to Varric, wishing he could step in and hide her away for a while. At least he’s familiar.

“My parents.” She chokes out. “I want my parents. I- I won’t do anything else for you without them.”

Cassandra closes her eyes, taking her hands away with a pained sigh. “I understand. There are complications, however. No one seems to know-”

“I know where they are.” Varric cuts in, looking anywhere but at the Seeker (which is likely for the best. If looks could kill,Cassandra would have him skewered and set aflame before his next breath.) “I already sent word.”

“You little--” Cassandra stops herself, taking a deep breath. Beth’s pretty sure it’s the only thing keeping Cassandra from punching him. “Where are they?”

He’s inched around them, using Beth as a barrier. “Just outside Redcliff?”

Cassandra works her jaw before turning away. “Very well. Luckily, we have business in the Hinterlands anyhow. When Beth is well enough, we will set out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I slept for like 3 hours then woke up and just couldn't get this fic off my mind. That shit happens sometimes.  
> I'm still formulating and debating exactly how Fenris's lyrium affects Beth (because I love to think that it would never leave her soul unscathed), so expect that to be worked in and hinted at slowly.  
> Did you know I love Varric? I love Varric.  
> Up next, Welcome to Hell (aka the Hinerlands)  
> Feel free to comment if you have any questions, or message my tumblr ( dammithawke.tumblr.com )
> 
> Thank you for existing!


	4. Setting Up Camp

‘They call you the Herald of Andaste.’

 

Ambassador Montilyet’s words echo in Beth’s head as she trails after Cassandra and Solas, Varric close by her side.

 

When they left Haven, they let her bring a staff, though the former templars they passed on the path out seemed more than ready to cut her down just for breathing near it. Cassandra cut sharp glares at them and they turned away, muttering under their breath about “the Herald’s Keeper.”

 

The journey itself takes a day and a half by foot. Varric complains about it more often than not, always in Cassandra’s ear shot. When she tells him he could have -- should have -- stayed behind at Haven, he clutches his chest as though she’s shot him with an arrow.

 

“And leave Pigeon to your mercy? What kind of uncle would I be if I did that?”

 

Cassandra makes a disgusted noise at him and presses ahead, her hand tight around the pummel of the sword at her hip. Varric’s complaints quiet for a bit after that, though Beth isn’t sure if he’s afraid the Seeker actually might send him back to Haven without them, or if fatigue just steals his tongue.

 

They don’t stop until they find the camp set up by the forward Scouts. The dwarf that greets them introduces herself as Harding, watching Beth with fascination as she briefs them on the area.

 

Before long, Cassandra and one of the Inquisition officers station themselves to keep watch for the night, leaving Beth alone to watch Varric grumble to himself as he uses the camp’s fire to heat them some food.

 

She almost doesn’t notice Solas take a seat beside her until he lays his staff down beside hers.

 

“So.” His eyes are on the fire while he speaks, his hands rubbing together to find a little extra warmth in his lap. “The ‘Herald of Andraste,’ is it?”

 

“According to some.” Beth ducks her head.

 

“And to you?”

 

“I’d rather be called my name than… that.”

 

Solas hums. “Bethany, then.”

 

She almost laughs. “Only dad calls me Bethany.” She watches him out of the corner of her eye. “He’d hate you.”

 

A smile touches his lips. “I wouldn’t be surprised. I find most have a penchant for disdain, these days. Especially toward mages. Humans especially.”

 

“He’s not a human.” Idly, Beth twists the small ring on the pinky finger of her good hand. “He’s an elf.”

 

“An elf?” Solas raises his eyebrows. “I was not aware.”

 

She brushes her chin length hair back so he can see where her ears come to the slightest point, just barely there. “Magic’s just a touchy subject, with him.”

 

“I suppose that narrative doesn’t change much, over time.” His smile turns sad, if only briefly. "He does not care for your magic, I gather."

 

"Or mom's." She shrugs. "But, you know, we're 'the good ones'. Apostasy just sort of runs in my family."

 

"An odd trait to pass on."

 

"You don't know the half of it."

 

“May ask on your hand, the mark?” Solas motions toward her.

 

Beth clutches her bandaged hand into a fist. “It’s… fine.”

 

“May I?” He motions for it again, and for a long moment she hesitates before letting him take it. Carefully, he unwraps the bandages. “After they first found you, I volunteered my aid in keeping the mark at bay as best I could.” He’s not looking at her, just her hand, the green of her mark reflecting off his eyes. “It very nearly killed you. Even unconscious you writhed in pain. It seems stable, now that the Breach is…” His eyes flicker to her face. “Does it still pain you?”

 

She looks away. Across from them, Varric’s making himself busy cleaning Bianca. Cassandra has taken a seat at the edge of camp, far out of earshot. The other scouts seem to have disappeared for the moment, patrolling the woods nearby.

 

“Not like it did.” Beth murmurs. “It’s sore, but… better.” She swallows, not sure how much of it’s really a lie. It still burns under her skin, but the longer it’s there the more used to it she gets. It melds with all the other aches and pains she doesn’t feel like sifting through as Real or Not.

 

“Ir abelas.” He gives a small nod. Holding a hand over hers, it begins to glow a faint blue with healing magic. Beth breathes out a sigh of relief. “You are too young to bear such a burden.”

 

She tries for a wry smile when he takes his hand away and begins to re-wrap the bandage. “You’ve obviously never met a Hawke before.”

 

“No, I suppose I have not,” he allows. When he’s done, he lets her have her hand back, which she holds close to her chest once again. “You should rest, Bethany. I expect tomorrow will take its toll.”

 

“You say that as if none of this has already done that.”

 

He smiles as he stands, amused. “Unfortunately true. Goodnight.”

 

She gives him a little wave and he excuses himself for one of the tents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who isn't going to let herself stop writing  
> guess who's afraid to lose momentum  
> THIS GIRL  
> Have some eggman.
> 
> Thanks for existing!


	5. Hell's Welcome Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well you didn't think you could just waltz into the Hinterlands, did you? There's always someone who wants you dead.

Solas was right, as it turns out.

The Hineterlands seem unassuming to the naked eye, but it doesn’t take long into their trek the next day before Cassandra yells a warning for them to be on guard.

Varric’s quick with Bianca, fending off the rogue Templars easily. A word from him and Solas is at Beth’s side, a barrier firmly in place.

“Stay behind me,” He tells her, his staff at the ready. Beth’s own is crackling with sparks, a spell on the tip of her tongue.

“I can help,” She argues, watching as Cassandra locks swords with one of the Templars.

“They’re hunting rebel apostates, Bethany.” Solas reminds her, pointing his staff toward a group of robed men stalking toward the Templars. He motions Beth follow him until they are both out of sight. “Giving them more reason to attack us would be unwise.”

“And if they attack first?” She challenges, frowning.

“Then by all means, defend. But I beg you, do not provoke.”

“Cassandra’s-”

“Cassandra is not you.” He’s watching around the corner, just within where Varric can still see him but still hidden from the men attacking the dwarf and Cassandra. “She wears the chantry’s Heraldry on her armor -- they should know not to attack her. They have done so already, and it will cost them. A Seeker defending means very different things then an apostate -- a child -- defending. A templar will not hesitate to use his power of Silence to cut off your connection to your magic, while he can.”

She presses her lips together in a hard line. “And what about the mages out there?”

“They saw us with a member of the chantry.” He’s frowning more, his focus shifting to the encroaching apostates. “They will not assume we are their allies. But until the Templars are dealt with--”

“We could be mistaken for them.” Beth uses her staff to push the leaves of a bush out of her way. “Right. So we’re screwed.”

“Not necessarily. Look.” 

Inquisition agents are barrelling toward the fray, weapons drawn and an unmistakeable look in their eyes. Cassandra yells for them while Varric whistles them over; the Templars haven’t been listening to their pleas to stop, too set on attacking. 

It shouldn’t be much of an even match, but the Templars are ragged and tired. They’ve been at this longer that day then Cassandra or the other agents meeting their steel. Soon, they’re cut down to size, dealt with.

But Solas is still barring Beth’s way from rejoining them. The rebel apostates seem to see their chance, barreling at nearest Inquisition agents with spells ready to cast.

“Wait! We are not Templars!” Cassandra calls out to them.

“I don’t think they care, Seeker.” Varric grits out, working at breaking through one of the mage’s barriers as they strike one of the agents down.

Beth’s mouth feels dry, her stomach clenches. “I don’t understand, why are they attacking -- didn’t they see them kill the Templars?”

“I don’t think it’s so simple.” Solas has a hand on her shoulder, holding her back. “They’ve been out here for too long. I doubt their supplies are lasting. They do not see a threat, just a means to survive.”

“We should be HELPING them,” She tries again to get out of his grasp, but he’s firm.

“No, Bethany. You are too important. Let them handle it -- they will be fine.”

She can only make a frustrated sound, trying once more before giving up, resigning herself to watch as the remaining two agent flank one of the mages.

Varric’s providing cover for Cassandra, giving her the time and space she needs to rush one of the mages just as his barrier falls.

It’s bloody. It’s endlessly bloody. But soon, the cries and yells die down as the last of the mages fall. Cassandra’s telling the agents to search for survivors, to find anyone left, and Varric’s shouldering Bianca.

The moment Solas releases the barrier around them, Beth breaks into a run, her hands shaking by the time she reaches Varric. One look at her face and he sighs, gathering her in his arms. No words, just a moment’s comfort.

At least they’re all safe, for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You really haven't arrived in the Hinterlands until you've been attacked by mages AND Templars.  
> Everyone is protective of Beth. Everyone.  
> You know, except the ones that want her dead. But do they really count?
> 
> Thank you for existing!


	6. What She Feels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the Crossroads, Beth wields her secrets to help her locate her parents.

Refugees are everywhere.

 

Unfortunately, it isn’t the first time Beth’s seen them in numbers like this, or even the worst case. Still, the Crossroads are striking as she looks out over them.

 

“I will not be long,” Cassandra says, pulling Beth’s attention away from eavesdropping on a hunter complaining about the lack of food. “The Revered Mother is here. I shall find her. Varric, Solas- Do you think you can…?”

 

“I’ve got it.” Varric claps a hand on Beth’s shoulder. “No worries, Seeker. I’ve been keeping an eye on her since before she was taller then me.”

 

Cassandra grits her teeth together, working her jaw as she looks over the dwarf. After a moment, Solas clears his throat.

 

“We can handle it, Seeker.” He assures her. “You need not worry.”

 

She seems reassured by that and gives them a nod before turning to stake out Mother Giselle.

 

“How much you want to bet she just doesn’t trust me to watch one kid?” Varric mutters as soon as Cassandra was out of sight. Beth offers him half a smile.

 

“To be fair, I managed to get a few villages away from my parents and in the middle of the world ending last time someone turned their back.”

 

“Point taken. No one can say you don’t have a nug-shit load of your mom in you.” He nods, ruffling up her hair so she has to swat him away.

 

“Speaking of,” Solas motions them to follow. “You said we were meeting Bethany’s parents near by?”

 

“Shit, yeah.” Varric takes his arm out of Beth’s to check his watch. “They should be camped near by, if they’ve made it.” He looks down to Beth. “Time to turn on the homing beacon?”

 

Beth shifts a little, wringing her good hand around the bandaged one and checking over Varric’s shoulder in case Cassandra came back too soon. “Not sure they’d like me doing that here.”

 

“Pretty sure your dad will ignore it long enough to be glad to see you.” Varric raises an eyebrow. “But I mean, if you’d rather just stumble around, calling out names--”

 

“No! No, no.” She says it too quickly, holding up her hands. Panic colors her voice at the thought. “That’s… not necessary. I’ll do it.”

 

Solas is watching them silently, but doesn’t question. Instead, he folds his arms as though waiting to see what will play out, waiting for the answers to present themselves.

 

Varric gives a victorious grin and motions Beth to lead the way. She wants to sigh, she really does. She wants to be weary and put this off.

 

But the thought of seeing her parents suddenly seems very real and very comforting. Even the thought of how mad they’ll likely be that she ran off pales in comparison to how much she just desperately NEEDS to know they’re ok.

 

She wants to see her dad. She misses her mom. She’s not sure anyone could fault her that, at this point.

 

The Crossroads are so crowded, though. She can hear children crying, people in pain. There’s too many hungry, too many sad, too many just wanting home, home, home.

 

No, she can’t start here. It would only hurt her. It’s too loud, too much. She swallows and looks to the men beside her.

 

“You said they’d be outside the village, right?” She asks, and Varric nods. “Then we need to get in the hills. It’ll be easier there. Here is too…” She falters, and instead motions to the refugees that surround them.

 

Varric doesn’t argue, just puts a hand on the small of her back. “Right behind you, kid.”

 

She offers a small smile, hoping he can’t see past it to her frayed nerves. Solas is more than content to follow them, his eyes never leaving Beth. The path takes them out a ways, and it isn’t until they reach the top of a particularly steep hill that Beth even begins to relax. The last of the refugees voices has died in her ears and, finally, it’s quiet.

 

She starts out small, like testing the water of a lake with her toe before she can be sure how cold it is.

 

Immediately, her knees feel stiffer and her finger curls as though she’s spent years with it wrapped around a crossbow’s trigger. The ground is solid beneath her feet and she is solid. Her gut is clenched with worry, clenched with the thought of “don’t look up, you shouldn’t look up, you know it’s still there. Don’t let it take her.”

 

Varric. It all tastes and feels of Varric to its core, a familiar sensation that comforts her the same way his silly stories did when she was three.

 

She pushes further.

 

And she feels older, tired but not tired. Like she’d rather be asleep though she’s perfectly fine and alert as she is. She feels the need to see it all and hear it all, know it all. There’s something on the edge, something that weighs her down. Something spiraling and distant and entirely earth-shatteringly sad. Like she’s done something terrible and can’t get out of a hole she knows she’s dug herself in to.

 

Solas.

 

She can’t focus on him, though. Not now. She clenches her hands in to fists and takes a shuttering breath.

 

Further, further. Spread thin, like a gauze stretched taut over a wound, like a net draped over the landscape. Kneaded out and out and out the way Merrill and Orana always kneaded the bread in the mornings while Beth watched.

 

There’s small tugs here and there, the chase of a wolf on the edge of her senses, the hunger for a nut that must be a squirrel, the leery whimper of a mabari somewhere. All great and grand but small and simple and distinctly not what Beth needs.

 

And then, like waking up and remembering she’s still sunburnt from the day before, her skin starts itching and humming. Burning, burning, like she’s sitting too close to the fire and her mom hasn’t warned her back from it yet.

 

“Dad.” She breathes, opening her eyes and hugging herself.

 

“You found him?” Varric’s by her side in an instant, watching her carefully as if he’s ready to catch her if she falls. It wouldn’t be the first time.

 

She nods numbly and points west, her hand shaking. She latches on to the bright burning sensation that can only be her father and takes a step forward, but stumbles.

 

“Bethany-” Solas is fast right her and looks to Varric. “What is this, is she alright?”

 

“I’m fine.” She pushes out of his reach and keeps moving forward. “I know where dad is. That’s all that matters.”

 

“You can barely stand,” He protests.

 

“She’s alright, Chuckles.” Varric steps in, but moves to help support Beth despite her protests. “She’ll be better as soon as we get to them. Trust me.”

 

They don’t wait for him to answer. Beth’s already moving in the direction of her father again, Varric in tow, as if pulled by an invisible cord.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been dying to do this bit. I hope it landed well. Let me know?  
> Up next: FINALLY a reunion. Probably. 
> 
> Thank you all for existing!


	7. An Unconventional Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beth finally tracks down Hawke and Fenris, but doesn't have time for hugs.
> 
> Well, Varric gets a hug. More or less.

It itches under her skin, painful but familiar. Like the ache in her chest she’s felt since the moment she first woke up with the mark and just wished with every fiber of her being that she’d been smart for once and listened to her parents, stayed with her parents.

 

The closer they get, the more Beth latches on to the sting that covers her body that screams of her father. She could have started pushing, could have let herself numb to it the worse it gets, but it means he’s real and close and she NEEDS to know that.

 

Its not the only thing getting worse, though.

 

“Bethany, your mark.” Solas says from beside her, hovering but not helping her stumble through the hills the way Varric is.

 

She looks down and, sure enough, something is blazing through the bandages, burning them away with a crisp green fire that should hurt, should be torture, but seems to pale to the other pains she’s trying to focus on; her own pains are nothing, she tells herself.

 

“That can’t be good,” Varric mutters.

 

“We must be getting close to a rift.” Solas frowns. “A small one, but a rift none the less.”

 

“Well that’s just… great.” Beth grits through her teeth, clenching her hand into a fist as though it would quiet the mark’s fury. “We can find it after we find dad.”

 

“It would be wiser to close it sooner, or the demons-”

 

“No.” Beth cuts Solas off, glaring. “We find my parents first. I’m not closing another of those until I see them.”

 

He seems about to protest, but under Beth’s glare and a shake of Varric’s head, he falls silent.

 

“Good. Glad we have an understanding.”

 

She tugs at Varric and, silently, they continues to pick their way through the Hinterlands.

 

\---

 

“Something’s not right.” It’s the first Beth’s spoken in half an hour. Both men look at her, raising eyebrows. She doesn’t notice, too busy staring down at her crackling hand. The pain is getting worse, slowly overshadowing what she’s been clinging to of her dad.

 

“Not right like seasick, or not right like a hole in the sky?” Varric asks.

 

“Both. Probably both.” She takes a shaky breath. “He’s close, but so is the rift.”

 

Varric’s face falls. “Oh, good. Glad to know they still know how to find trouble.”

 

“We need to hurry.” Beth’s throat feels dry, strained. She doesn’t even argue, this time, when Solas joins Varric in helping her walk. Maker, but can’t she be running? She should be running.

  
  


They hear Hawke’s voice first, ringing past trees and ruined buildings to reach them. She’s cursing, calling out Fenris’s name.

 

Next they hear the familiar shriek of a shade, of it digging into the ground before barrelling off for another attempt to claw out someone’s eyes.

 

They don’t hear Fenris until they see him, trying futilely to swing his sword at the rift, as though that would close it.

 

“Dad!” Beth yells before she can stop herself. She pulls out of Varric and Solas’s grasp, swinging her staff off her back.

 

Fenris and Hawke both seem to stumble at the sound of their daughter’s voice, a grin breaking out on Hawke’s face while horror seems to pass over Fenris’s.

 

She doesn’t hesitate to drop the link she’s been clutching to. She’s found them, she doesn’t need to follow it any more. Doesn’t need to be distracted by the pain. She turns to see Solas and Varric, looking rather shocked and winded.

 

“Don’t just stand there,” she calls. “Help them!”

 

Varric’s the first to laugh, pulling Bianca from his back. “Don't have to tell me twice.”

 

Solas has his staff in hand a moment later, not hesitating before erecting a barrier on all five of them. He and Beth join Hawke easily, their spells rippling through the air to knock the demons aside.

 

Fenris hesitates, torn between demanding what’s going on, but doesn’t have time to ask. A fear demon is barreling toward Beth, who’s already caught trying to freeze another demon in its place. Fenris leaps into action, his sword slicing through the fear demon. The next moment, he pivots around so he’s between Beth and the other demon, his lyrium tattoos blazing as he sinks a fist into its frozen body, ripping its innards apart.

 

Varric and Hawke are back-to-back already; lighting jumps from her fists to cut down three shades while Varric sends bolt after bolt through another demon’s head and chest.

 

Soon, Solas is hurling a ball of fire at the last remaining demon just before Fenris strikes it down.

 

“Andraste’s tits, finally,” Hawke pants. “But what about-”

 

Beth is already pushing past Varric, reaching for the rift.

 

“Bethany, no!” Fenris yells, trying to reach for her. Solas moves to hold him back.

 

The rift grabs for Beth, latching on to the mark on her hand. She cries out, digging the blade of her staff into the ground with her other hand to keep her in place and upright. It doesn’t hurt as much as the breach did. She doubts anything can hurt that much, really, though she isn’t sure she would be all too shocked to find something that tops it.

 

She pulls with all her strength, eyes screwing shut. And, as quickly as the rift found her, it lets her go, snapping out of existence. She falls to her knees and breathes a shaky sigh.

 

Around her, the hills go quiet.

 

It takes a moment for her to finally turn and find the faces of her parents. Solas still has a hold on Fenris while Varric has his arms around Hawke to keep her back. Beth honestly can’t tell if there’s more shock or fear on her mom and dad’s faces.

 

Eventually, she says in a hoarse voice; “I really hope this isn’t the part where you ground me. Had enough of confined spaces and cells this week.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to dedicate this chapter to the bottle of wine I just opened. The first one we've been able to buy since getting trapped-ish by the flood earlier this week. Don't come here, the roads are crumbling, but we're finally off the boiled water advisory.
> 
> Andraste bless wine.
> 
> ANYWAY! I love you all. Your kudos and comments mean SO much to me. Seriously, every single one keeps spurring me on to continue this. And I LOVE how enthusiastic the comments are! Keep them coming; feel free to ask questions.
> 
> Also, while I was putting off writing this chapter, I accidentally ended up drawing Beth earlier today.  
> See it [Here](http://dammithawke.tumblr.com/post/130710919246/inquisitor-beth-hawke-daughter-of-the-champion).
> 
> Up next: Hawke and Fenris react.
> 
> Thank you for existing!


	8. Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one talks the way they should.

They don’t talk much on the way back to Haven. Varric insists to Hawke and Fenris that everything will be explained, that everything will make sense when they get there. His nose scrunches the way it does when Beth knows he’s trying to tell a story, trying to believe the fiction he weaves himself.

 

Solas breaks off with them at some point to find Cassandra while they make camp. Whatever he says to her when he finds her, she doesn’t seem too upset when they rejoin the others. She doesn’t stop watching Hawke for the rest of the journey back to Haven.

 

The entire time, one of her parents is always at her side, always has an arm around her or a hand on her shoulder. She almost protests, almost reminds them that she’s not a little kid anymore, but after the past few days she doesn’t think she wants them to let go. Not yet.

  
  


They don’t get a chance to rest when they finally make it back. The moment they arrive, Cassandra sends a runner to gather Josephine and Cullen, assuring them that she’ll meet them in the War Room momentarily. With a stern face, she gestures for Hawke to follow her.

 

Fenris’s hand tightens on Beth’s shoulder as he surveys the area, his eyes narrowing at the scattered former templars. It doesn’t pass Beth’s attention when he makes sure to put himself between her and the soldiers. His distrust is almost a familiar comfort.

 

Solas is the first to break off from them with no farewell given. Varric seems reluctant to leave Hawke’s side, muttering under his breath to her the whole way, but eventually flashes them all a grin when they get near the chantry and promises to meet up with them soon with food.

 

They stop outside the War Room.

 

“If I say ‘wait here’, are you gonna make another break for it?” Hawke turns to Beth, raising an eyebrow and looking far more tired then she has in years. Fenris presses his lips together in a hard line beside her.

 

Beth flushes. “Won’t move an inch. Promise.”

 

Hawke scrutinizes her for a long moment before nodding and following Cassandra in. Fenris hesitates behind her, like he wants to say something, but just ends up sighing and following his wife.

 

At least an hour passes before they come back out. Beth is nearly asleep, slumped on the floor with only the wall behind her barely keeping her upright where she sits. Her mother’s face is hard, refusing to look at Cassandra or Cullen.

 

Beth lifts her head when Hawke steps close. She lets herself be pulled to her feet as she chews her lip. Past Hawke, Fenris won’t even look at her. He mutters something in Hawke’s ear, too low for Beth to hear, and starts walking out of the chantry without them.

 

Beth starts to follow, but Hawke holds her back, shaking her head.

 

“Is… is he mad?” Beth asks quietly.

 

“Not at you.” Hawke frowns, draping an arm over Beth’s shoulder. “He just… needs some space. Let him go for a walk. Clear his head.”

 

Beth bites her lip, wanting so much to argue, but holds her tongue and gives a small nod.

 

“Come on,” Hawke sighs. “Varric promised us food.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, sorry for the wait. I've been off my meds for 2 weeks and it turns out when you're on ADHD shit you need it to be productive  
> Go figure, right?  
> Sorry this ones on the short side. But Can I just say how much all the comments and kudos mean? Like holy fuzzbutt they're getting me through it.  
> I love you all SO much  
> Thanks for existing!


	9. A Hand at Healing

It’s been hours since Beth’s seen her father. It takes everything in her not to reach out and test what he’s feeling -- the only thing stopping her is the sheer uncertainty about what she’d find, and the knowledge that her mother would notice the moment she tried.

 

Hawke hasn’t left her side since they left the chantry, even after Varric has excused himself to his bedroll for the night. Hawke watches Beth out of the corner of her eye, the way she always has when too much is festering in both of their minds that neither of them are ready to admit to. It’s so familiar a sensation, rolling off her mother so thickly with swirls of worry, that Beth doesn’t have to even try to reach out to feel it.

 

The fire before them is burning down to mere embers when footsteps make both of them look up. Beth knows before Hawke that it isn’t Fenris, like they’re both hoping.

 

“I did not intend to startle you,” Solas says in greeting.

 

“You didn’t.” Hawke says quickly, her face shifting to a hard mask to hide her disappointment.  “Do you need something Serah-”

 

“Solas. Just Solas.” He cleares his throat. “I know we did not get well acquainted on the journey from the Crossroads; my apologies. I’m here for your daughter, actually.”

 

“Excuse me?” Hawke stands quickly, putting herself between them with electricity crackling in her hands. Beth’s heart sinks -- it will be some time before her mother stops suspecting every other person of attempting to kidnap her, at this rate.

 

Solas holds up his hands. “I mean, I’m here to look in on her. I’ve been tasked with ensuring her mark does not harm her. I’m a healer, of sorts.”

 

Beth scrambles to her feet, putting a hand on her mother’s arm. “It’s ok. He’s been helping me.”

 

Hawke seems reluctant to turn her glare from Solas, but does long enough to search Beth’s face.

 

“You’re sure?”

 

“He means me no harm.” Beth’s eyes flick to the elf, reaching out just enough to get a taste without getting too invasive. “I’ve checked. He’s fine, mom. Put the bolts away.”

 

Hawke purses her lips, but reluctantly lets the magic she summoned slip away until her hands no longer call the touch of lightning to them. It takes another moment of her giving Solas a warning look before she finally steps aside.

 

“Just healing?”

 

“Just healing.” He promises, motioning toward Beth.

 

She sends a silent thanks to Andraste as she steps forward, offering him the tattered remains of the bandages on her hand.

 

“It seems the trip wore on it.” He frowns, picking the scraps off with nimble fingers.

 

“Well, you know. Demons and all.” Beth shrugs. She tries not to look when the last bits of bandage are pulled away to reveal her hand. Beside her, Hawke’s sharp gasp is enough to tell her it still looks bad. Solas makes an interested sound, but otherwise barely seems bothered, just fascinated.

 

The relief of his healing spell doesn’t last as long as she would have liked, but she is getting too used to how simply wrong her hand feels by now. It's just another pain to ignore. If she lies to herself really well, she can convince herself it was someone else’s pain she just had to block out, like any other. It doesn’t work as well as the time she broke her ankle, when she was 8, but it helps.

 

Hawke’s eyes don’t leave the mark, even as Solas finishes his round of healing and pulls out a poultice to rub on it. It isn’t until he pulls out a fresh roll of bandages that she seems to react at all, beyond her shock at the sight.

 

“Wait,” She grabs his wrist as he reaches again for Beth’s hand. She doesn’t meet his eyes as he raises a brow at her. Instead, she motions for the bandage. “Just- let me? I’m pretty shit at healing, but bandages I can handle. Let me help."

 

When he hesitates, looking to Beth, Hawke lets out a frustrated sigh. “She’s my daughter. I should be able to help with this.”

 

Beth doesn’t wait for Solas to answer, instead taking the bandage from him and handing it to her mom herself. It's a small offering, but maybe it can help in some small way. As much as Beth doesn’t want to think about it, she knows this is likely more torture for Hawke then it is for her, in some way.

 

Hawke lets out a breath and sets to work. Her hands shake slightly, a fact that doesn’t escape Beth’s notice in the least, but she knows what she's doing. Solas watches carefully, clinically, but doesn’t protest.

 

He only leaves when he is sure it is wrapped firmly enough, though not too tight. Once alone again, Hawke slumps back into her seat by the campfire.

 

After a silent moment, Beth joins. “Thanks, mom.”

 

Hawke doesn’t answer, just pulls her gently against her side in a hug.

 

Beth leans her head on Hawke’s shoulder. “They assigned me one of these cabins. When you’re tired we can sleep there. Ok?”

 

Hawke makes a small sound, almost like agreement, and kisses the top of her head. “After your dad comes back."

 

“But… What if he doesn’t?”

 

“He will.” Hawke tightenes her arm around Beth. “He always does.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the dry spell. I've been binge watching everything on netflix while getting over being sick.  
> This chapter was long overdue, I know.
> 
> In case you haven't heard it lately; Thank you for existing!


	10. A Place for Nugs

Haven, for the most part, was a sad and businesslike affair. The soldiers labored around with half an eye out at all times for whether Cullen was approaching. The quartermaster spent more time tsking at the lack of supplies then she spent actually rectifying the situation. The wounded seemed to only grow in numbers. And all the while, whispers twisted their way through the camp about Leliana’s extra eyes and ruthless tactics.

One of the few bright spots Beth found early on was the number of nugs. Everywhere she looked, wild nugs had their way with the grounds. Though it was difficult to escape her parents’ ever present attention, there was a few times she could manage to slip away long enough to find a few nugs playing. She took to pocketing some of the bread and cheese from her meals to offer them, delighting in their excited squeaks.

Her favorite spot was just outside the walls of Haven, down the path past the training dummies and Cullen’s recruits. It is there that her father finally seekes her out, after days of his silence. The nug in her lap wiggles as he approaches, but Beth shushes the poor thing and gives it a gentle scratch between the eyes.

“I should have known I’d find you with those.” He hesitates before lowering himself to sit beside her.

“I like nugs.” She keeps her head down, eyes focused on the one in her lap. “They’re not… complicated. You give them food, and they like you. It’s reassuring.”

He doesn’t answer for a long moment. Beth is sure the silence would go on indefinitely, until another nug scampers up and wedges its way into Fenris’s lap. He makes a noise of indignation, but doesn’t push it away, even as it tries to press its head into his pockets, looking for food.

Beth gives him a small smile as she hands him a piece of bread to let the nug nibble.

“Do you remember the nug you had when you were younger?” He asks, letting the nug in his lap take the food from his hand to munch it off his knee.

Beth smiled a little more. “I remember you wouldn’t let me name him Ser Nug-Humper.”

Fenris scratched his chin, trying not to laugh. “You were eight. Varric shouldn’t have taught you that.” He looks up at the sky, but seems determined not to look at the Breach. He gives up quickly -- there is no place it doesn’t tint the horizon -- and looks back at his daughter. “You know, Varric yelled at me this morning.”

Beth lifts a skeptical eyebrow.

“He did.” Fenris insists. “Scolded me outright. He doesn’t like how I’ve been acting, since we got here.”

Beth doesn’t answer. She wraps her arms around the nug in her lap, hugging it close.

“He’s right, probably.” Fenris continues. “I’ve been… I haven’t been doing my job.” He clears his throat. “I’ve been letting anger get the best of me.”

Beth swallows, but can’t let herself look at him. “If you’re angry at me, you could just say it.”

“I’m not angry at you.” He says it quickly, pushing a hand through his hair and letting the nug scamper out of his lap. It joins the other one in Beth’s lap. “I’m angry at… all this. The situation, I suppose. Those idiots trying to pull you into this mess. They- they have no right, Bethany.”

“But they do.” She finally looks at him. “They have every right. I made a mess of things -- they’re right to insist I help. You’ve seen the rifts -- you know I’m the only one who can fix this.”

“But you’re just a CHILD, Bethany!” 

The nugs squeak, startled and abandon Beth’s lap for some nearby bushes. She sighs, now empty handed, and stares down at her hands in her lap.

“Maybe I am. But I can help these people. And I want to help them. I can close that Breach, too. I just-” She stops, voice choking off. She takes a shuddering breath to steady herself. “I just can’t do it alone. I know you don’t like that I have to do this, but I need you to… to just…”

“Just be there.” He finishes for her, pursing his lips and looking away. “I know. I’ll try. But Bethany… I can’t just let you run off with these people.”

“So come with us.” Carefully, she reaches out to take her father’s hand. “Stay here and help. Let me stay and help.”

He looks down at their hands, and after a long moment brings her knuckles to his lips to kiss.

“Alright. But no more running away.”

“Promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been so stuck on this chapter. Until I finally had the realization that nugs solve everything.
> 
> Thank you for existing.


	11. From the Fade I Crafted You

Beth counts it as a stroke of luck that her parents packed her favorite copy of the chant of light with them. There was something overwhelmingly comforting about sitting in the repurposed chantry and reading it.

 

Before their trip to the Hinterlands, she’d found herself sitting in the main hall, trying to remember verses as best she could. A time or two, Cassandra had found her and been glad to recite what she could remember for Beth.

 

Having a copy of the Chant in her hands, now, is like a piece of herself has settled back into place. She lets herself settle into a corner across from Josephine’s office, murmuring along as she reads.

 

“ ‘And no longer was it formless, ever-changing,

But held fast, immutable,

With Words for heaven and for earth, sea and sky.

At last did the Maker

From the living world

Make men. Immutable, as the substance of the earth,

With souls made of dream and idea, hope and fear,

Endless possibilities…’ ”

 

Footsteps echo and stop in front of her, following the almost silent swish of chantry robes. Beth looks up at the sister and flushes. “I was just--”

 

The woman holds up a hand and gives a gentle smile before speaking in a strong Orlesian accent.

 

“ ‘Then the Maker said:

To you, My second-born, I grant this gift:

In your heart shall burn

An unquenchable flame

All-consuming, and never satisfied.

From the Fade I crafted you,

And to the Fade you shall return

Each night in dreams

That you may always remember Me.

 

‘And then the Maker sealed the gates

Of the Golden City

And there, He dwelled, waiting

To see the wonders

His children would create.’ “

 

Beth closes her copy of the chant and hugs it to her chest.

 

“He spoke of mages, I’m sure you realize,” The woman says, tipping her head. “His second-born.”

 

Beth doesn’t answer, her throat feeling tight. She glances toward the large doors at the front of the chantry, repressing the natural urge to make a run for it.

 

The woman’s face softens. “I did not mean to frighten you, child.”

 

“You didn’t.” Beth forces out, pushing herself to her feet.

 

“Forgive me.” The woman bows her head. “I am being rude. I am Mother Giselle.”

 

“From the Crossroads?” Beth shifts a little, glancing at the door again -- though now mostly out of wishing Cassandra were at least here, by her side.

 

“Yes. I was aiding the wounded. I have offered my services and aid to the Inquisition, since then.” She looks Beth over calmly. “Would I be correct in assuming you are the Herald of Andraste I have heard so much about?”

 

Again, Beth doesn’t answer.

 

“...Ah.” Giselle says softly, bowing her head. “You mistrust me.” 

 

Waves of pity roll off her, sickening Beth’s stomach.

 

“I have plenty of reason to.” She grits out.

 

“Forgive me.” Giselle holds out her hands in surrender. “I wish no ill-will.”

 

Beth struggles where she stands, but finally, after a long moment, she manages a step away from the Mother. “I’m- I’m sorry. My parents must be looking for me.”

 

“Maker watch over you, Herald,” Giselle says in farewell, giving Beth a moment’s pause. 

  
She doesn’t let herself stop for long, though. The Chantry no longer feels like the refuge it did that morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was going to be longer, but I havent updated in a while, so im breaking it up in two so i can get this bit to you sooner. Honestly, I just love thinking about Beth studying the Chant.
> 
> Thank you for existing!


	12. Seek Me Out

In all honesty, Beth isn’t sure where she’s headed until she pushes past the gates of Haven and sees the training dummies. Soldiers buzz around, training and barking at each other, but like a bright spot in the dark, Cassandra is also there. Beth tries not to be too relieved as she stumbles toward the woman.

 

“Herald?” Cassandra lowers her sword mid-strike as Beth approaches. “Are you alright? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”

 

“I- no, no.” Beth swallows, wrapping her arms around herself. “I was just-- Do mind like, not calling me that?”

 

“Herald?” Cassandra raises an eyebrow. “But it is your… title.”

 

Beth makes a face, running a hand through her hair. “According to who? Who waved a magic wand and decided I have to be some ‘Herald’? It’s stupid.”

 

Cassandra’s frown deepens. “Many consider it a sign of respect.”

 

“It’s Blasphemy at best.” Beth holds out her copy of the Chant toward the woman. “I just had a freakin chantry mother quote the word of the maker to me and use that blighted term within breaths of each other. If I’m not a heretic already, that title should make me one. Maybe all those clerics are right to hate me for that.”

 

“Where has this come from?” Cassandra puts a hand on the book, forcing her to lower it.

 

“From everything.” Beth crosses her arms. “I’m not someone chosen by Andraste -- I just ran to the wrong place at the wrong time.”

 

“Have you not considered that it was Andraste and the Maker’s will for you to be present at the Conclave?” Cassandra sheaths her sword and motions for Beth to walk with her.

 

“They have a funny way of doing it.” She says. “Do you even know why I bolted from my parents that day?”

 

“I assumed it was curiosity for the conclave.”

 

“Hardly.” Beth glances over her shoulder as they walk, making sure they’re out of the ear shot of the soldiers. “There were templars in the village we were hiding in. Nasty ones. Mom and dad weren’t around for the morning. It wasn’t… safe.”

 

Cassandra stopped walking, her eyes widening. “But it was before the Conclave -- they were surely there peacefully.”

 

“You have a narrow view of them.” Beth looks away. “I mean no disrespect. But if you’re a mage, an apostate, the sight of a templar doesn’t inspire confidence. It’s the epitome of terror. The nightmare that can ensure you never see your family again. Or if you’re too… different, it can mean certain death.”

 

“That is not the purpose of--”

 

“Oh, the ‘purpose’ of them. Yeah, I know. Protect the innocents from mages, and the mages from themselves. A necessary evil. Look, I’ve heard it. It doesn’t change the truth of what they truly are, truly do, and the fear they truly cause.”

 

Cassandra sighs. “Perhaps you are right.”

 

Beth starts walking again, leading them to one of the docks that overlooks the frozen lake.

 

“We have a choice, right? Between seeking help from the mages or templars?”

 

Cassandra hesitates. “More or less, yes.”

 

“Ask them to choose the mages.”

 

“Bethany, I--”

 

“Please, Seeker. The mages need our help as much as we need theirs. And if you want me to succeed at closing the breach once and for all, forcing me to be around templars won’t do that. If you do that, I can’t promise that I won’t run again. Not for you, not for Thedas, not for my family.”

 

Cassandra searches her face before squaring her shoulders, her soldiers-mask in place. “I will see what I can do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't sleep.
> 
> Thanks for existing


	13. No one quite knew where she came from.

Time passes oddly in Haven.

 

It seems only too common for Beth to spend a week or two at a time in the village, training with her mother or Solas, or watching Cassandra train from between two tents, out of sight, while she eats the few rations she can sneak from the tavern.

 

It takes a few days before Cassandra acknowledges her watching, and declares that she might as well make herself useful. ‘Useful’, by Cassandra’s definition, appears to mean learning to defend one’s self with a sword and shield.

 

The time always comes, however, when someone whispers to her parents that it’s time for an outing. The first few times, they both insist on going, playing their daughters personal keepers while Cassandra and the scouts escort them back to the Hinterlands to deal with rifts, stopping now and then to offer aid where they can to the people. Eventually, though, they settle for only one accompanying. Fenris is usually the first to volunteer, not surprising Beth in the least.

 

It’s almost a relief when they’re sent to the Storm Coast instead. Varric whispers to Beth that across the sea is the Free Marches, and home. Kirkwall. She pulls back her cloak, trying to get on her toes as if it will help her see the city’s chains any better than the hill she’s on.

 

Val Royeaux proves the most interesting challenge. Hawke insists on going, despites Fenris and Varric’s protests. The entire time, Beth struggles to school her face while her mother mutters under her breath about how the entire city is “so Orlesian.” It almost makes up for the mess they find. The moment one of the templars strikes the chantry Mother they were attempting to meet with, every inch of Beth screams at her to flee. It ends up a shouting match, but ultimately the Mother is the only one harmed.

 

Beth can’t even hide her relief that it likely means the templars are no longer an option.

 

The next week, months after the explosion at the conclave, Beth finds herself at the training dummies again, though Cassandra’s nowhere in sight. She’s been improving, she knows, but she still feels more comfortable with her stave and magic then with the sword. Each blow feels technically accurate, but still so off at every attempt.

 

She almost doesn’t notice Sera’s approach. It’s only the crunch of the elf biting into an apple that makes Beth look up mid-swing of her sword. She misses the dummy widely, earning a laugh from the elf.

 

“Seeker really makes you do this shite?” Sera grins.

 

“She doesn’t MAKE me,” Beth looks away, tries swinging again.

 

“Oh, no, it’s good though, innit? Got somethin’ sides that magic to make you scary.” She wiggles her fingers teasingly at Beth.

 

Beth refuses to even look at her as she strikes the dummy again. “I’m not at this to be scary. Just useful.”

 

“And beatin’ up a straw guy’s useful, then?”

 

Beth makes a face. “Seems like it, yeah.”

 

“Hm.” Sera takes another loud bite of her apple, walking in a wide circle around Beth.

 

“Did you need something, Sera?” Beth asks, sheathing her sword.

 

“Well yeah, we all need somethin’ from you, don’t we? Close a rift, make dumb shite shut up, kill a few wolves.”

 

“Sera.”

 

“I know, I know. I’m on it.” She tosses the rest of her apple to a fennic hiding behind one of the soldiers chests. “You’re going to Redcliff next week. I want in. Jenny’s got someone I need to make a pass-off to there.”

 

“Not really sure it’s my call.”

 

“But it COULD be.” Sera steps closer, leaning against the training dummy. “I’m tellin’ ya, if you march up to them and say ‘Ay, you. This arsehole’s coming with me.’ They’ll stuff it and pack it. Nothin’ to it. You already got them letting that tattoo-y elf follow you ‘bout.”

 

Beth raises an eyebrow. “You mean… my dad?”

 

Sera snorts. “Wow, no shit? He’s your pop? Shit, didn’t see that comin’. Not too elfy, is he?”

 

“Not too- What are you even talking about?”

 

“Nah, nah, never mind.” Sera waves her off and pushes off the dummy. “Just- see what you can do ‘bout Redcliff, yeah? I’ll owe you one. Promise.”

 

Beth sighs. “Yeah, yeah. Alright. I’ll ask.”

 

“Maker bless you, Herald.” Sera says mockingly, giving an exaggerated and off-balance bow before turning to leave, laughing as she went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glossing over some quests and and things. You know how it is. Seems like I'm getting back in the habit of writing daily, though. At 6am without having slept yet.  
> Ain't that the bees knees.  
> The Butterfly's Alibis. (Shit that would make a good name for something. I'll never use it. Sad.)  
> I hope you all had good breaks and didn't get too stressed by family. I'll be getting a new computer this week, so bare with me while I get used to a potential new keyboard. Right now I'm using an external one on my laptop. It's a shit laptop. I'll miss it.  
> What else? There was something I was gonna say here that i was thinking about all day.  
> Oh! I'm working on a spotify playlist trying to capture the essence of Beth in song form. It's slow going, though. But I'll link you all to it as soon as it's presentable.  
> Things I'm looking forward to: Bringing in King Alistair, his wife Renin Cousland, and their daughter. My girlfriend and I actually spend an incredible amount of time talking about her and Beth. Maker, I love them.  
> I'm rambling.
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me! So much more to come!  
> Thanks for existing!


	14. Fathers and Fathers

Beth does manage to talk Cassandra in to bringing Sera along on their trek. Fenris seems content to glare at her instead of Solas for once, though Beth can’t tell if that’s any sort of relief. Running in to rogue mages along the way seems almost a welcome distraction. Even the rift just outside the village’s gates makes her quietly thankful to have something to focus on.

The distress of the town feels tangible. Cassandra’s brow furrows the moment they’re told that Grand Enchanter Fiona is no longer in charge, putting Beth’s nerves on edge. Sera disappears before they reach the tavern where they were promised an audience, but everyone seems too distracted to pay her absence any mind.

Fenris puts himself squarely behind his daughter when they enter, every bit appearing her bodyguard -- though, more than once, Iron Bull has tried to claim that position for his own.

At the mention of the Tevinter Imperium, Beth is almost certain her father is ready to bolt. His anxiety rolls off in waves, only slightly settling when Beth reaches out to touch his arm.

Cassandra presses for more information until, futilely, Fiona holds up her hands in surrender.

“As one indentured to a magister, I no longer have the authority to negotiate with you.”

Fenris almost steps forward angrily at the words, but Beth holds him back and moves forward instead.

“Then tell us who does.”

Fiona eyes Beth for a moment, and almost replies -- but the moment she opens her mouth, the doors of the tavern burst open to permit a hauty looking man. Fenris stiffens at the sight of him, even before Fiona introduces him as the Magister Gereon Alexius.

The meeting only seems to worsen from there. Beth and Cassandra take seats across from Alexius in attempt to make him see reason.

Not long in, Alexius sends his son, Felix, for a scribe and turns his attention fully on Beth.

“I’m not surprised you’re here. Containing the breach is not a feat many could even attempt. There is no telling how many mages would be needed for such an ambitious endeavor. Ambitious, indeed.”

“There’s too much at risk for any of us to be fooled into thinking on a small scale, here.” Beth sat up straighter.

“And for one so young to be at the forefront-” 

A shuffling of feet pulled Alexius from his words, as well as everyone else’s attention. Felix had return, swaying on his feet, until finally stumbling into Beth. She counted it a miracle that she caught him, and almost didn’t notice when he slipped something into her hand as he fumbled through an apology.

“Felix, are you alright?” Alexius was by his son’s side in a moment, almost as fast as Fenris slipped himself between the either Tevene and Beth.

“I’m fine, father.” Felix struggled out, clutching at his middle.

“Come, I’ll get your powders.” Alexius carefully supported Felix’s weight. “Please excuse us, friends. We’ll have to continue this another time.”

Beth and her small group watched the magister usher out Fiona and the other mages, remaining silent until they were alone in the tavern.

Fenris was the first to speak, wheeling on Cassandra. “A magister? You can’t possibly be considering negotiating with him.”

As Cassandra huffed back at him, Beth took the chance to look at the slip of paper from Felix.

_ Come to the Chantry. You are in danger. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We expect short chapters from me by now, yes? I've been working on this one for a bit -- wanted to have it posted by my birthday last sunday, but see how that turned out. Hopefully we'll get more in to the good stuff in the next 3 chapters.  
> Also, fun stuff. I've been working on a spotify playlist inspired by Beth. It's a work in progress still, but you can listen to it [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/livvialove/playlist/2gNx2rBaVlpk51CVdnIYQ0). More music may be added to it periodically. Feel free to leave comments with songs you think should be added!  
> Please keep commenting in general too. Its a silly thing, but it does help keep up the motivation to write. Tell me what you think, tell me your headcanons, tell me if I misspell something or make a mistake!
> 
> And as usual, thank you for existing


	15. Not a Magister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter Dorian Pavus, Chantry rift.

“No.”

“Dad.”

“ _No.”_

“But-”

“It could be a trap.”

“Or, it could _not_ be a trap.”

“Short stuff has a point.” Beth jumps at the sound of Sera’s voice. When had she rejoined them? “If this shite-arse noble was gonna spring, he’d do it to your face. Make sure everyone’s watching while he punches down, yeah?”

“Unless he didn’t want to start a war.” Cassandra’s addition is a bit gruff, her arms folded and shoulders squared. “Killing the Herald in plain sight? They would have to know the danger.”

“Magisters do not fear the Chantry, though.” Dad takes a moment to pinch the bridge of his nose. Agitation spills off of him in waves strong enough that Beth doesn’t have to try to sense them. “Alright. We will go. _All_ of us.”

As if that was a question. Beth wonders if he just needs to reassure himself that he can protect her. The brief pulse of fear she feels as he squeezes her shoulder confirms her suspicion.

The walk to the chantry is short, and they spend it in silence, save for Sera whistling a vaguely familiar folk song. Beth is glad to be the one leading the party, as she can focus on pressing forward, rather than letting her own apprehension (and everyone else’s) distract her.

As they approach the doors, though, Beth could feel the burning in her palm, and sees the sparking of her mark being called and pulled by a rift.

_Shit._

Sure enough, the chantry greets them with the sight of a flurry of demons, all pouring forth from an angry-looking rift, crackling just above the head of a strikingly well-dressed mage.

“Good, you’re finally here!” The mage chimes, a cheeriness in his thick Tevinter accent that certainly does not reflect the real danger he’s in. “Help me close this, will you?”

The fight is relatively quick. Beth focuses most of her energy on keeping barriers around the others, especially around her father and Cassandra, who, naturally, have charged into the thickest of the wave of demons. Behind her, Beth can hear Sera cackling gleefully as she fires off arrow after arrow, whooping each time she shoots down a “fucking fade-shit arse demon”. She keeps an eye on the Tevinter mage, too, making sure his magic remains focused on the demons alone.

When Beth finally has an opening, and the demons have been cleared, she raises her hand to the rift, gritting her teeth through the burning in her palm as the rift fights against the call of her mark, until finally it vanishes with a loud crack.

The only sound for a few long minutes is her party catching their breath, and the ringing in Beth’s ears from the pulsing of the rift.

Finally, the Tevinter mage breaks the silence. “Fascinating.” He breathes, staring down at Beth’s hand. As he approaches her, Dad not so subtly stands protectively behind her. “How does that even work?”

Beth opens her mouth to speak, but stops, as she actually doesn’t know for certain. As if reading her thoughts, the mage laughs. “You don’t even know, do you? You just wiggle your fingers, and boom! Rift closes! But how should you know? You’re barely more than a child!”

“I’m not - “

“Yes, yes, I know, you’re a teenager, you’re more grown than you look, pardon my rudeness, I remember how that goes perfectly well.” There’s a surprising lack of condescension in his voice. Which doesn’t help that he’s still treating her like a kid.

“Who are you?” It comes out much ruder than Beth intends. She isn’t sure if it’s her own annoyance or the tension in the room.

If he notices her sharpness, he doesn’t pay it any mind. “Of course, pardon me. I am Dorian of house Pavus, most recently of Minrathous.”

“I know house Pavus.” Dad speaks for the first time in a few minutes, a hand immediately flying to Beth’s shoulder. “You’re a magister as well.”

Dorian sighs, breaking his air of confidence for the first time. “Alright. I will say this once. I am a mage from Tevinter, but not a magister. I know southerners use the term interchangeably-”

“I’m not a Southerner.” Dad says, sharply. Beth flinches at the anger that radiates from the hand on her shoulder. “And I know house Pavus is dangerous.”

Dorian blinks at him for a moment, before realization dawns on him. “You were Danarius’s bodyguard, yes? My sincerest apologies, I didn’t recognize you.” Beth tenses at the mention of Danarius’s name, whether from her own fear or her father’s, she isn’t sure. “I can assure you, I am not my family. But, I’m not here to argue family matters either.”

He snaps back into his too-cheerful tone quickly. “Now. Did you happen to notice the way time shifted around the rift? How it slowed down, and sped up?”

Beth considers a moment. “I did.” She’d been so focused on the demons that she thought maybe it had been a trick of her own perceptions. “What does it mean?”

“Magister Alexius - who was my mentor, I should mention - developed this form of time magic, sadly with my help.”

Time magic? Beth feels the room tense further. “Is time magic even possible?”

“Quite clearly, yes.” But he nods solemnly. “And before long, without your help, rifts like this will open across Thedas. Possibly unraveling time itself.”

“Maker’s shiny arse,” Sera swears. Beth can’t help but agree.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story started out as a light way for me to keep my writing muscles lean. I've been facing a lot of issues lately, though, with life, anxiety, failed job hunting, and general joint pain that have kept me from giving it attention. It's also, to my surprise, become one of my more popular fics (though that may just be thanks to the fact that it thus far has more chapters than anything else I've written.)
> 
> I need to, personally, take a break from working on it.
> 
> BUT!
> 
> The entire time I've been writing thing, my girlfriend Sarah ([Linnybear](http://archiveofourown.org/users/LinnyBear)) has been helping me privately develop Beth's character, history, future, and most importantly the plot of this story. We've worked together co-writing in the past. So for the next few chapters, she'll be taking over writing Beth's story, with editing and tweaking from me to keep the story accurate. (This also means that for the first time, the story's chapters will be edited BEFORE being posted. Wow. Revolutionary.)
> 
> I will be taking over again eventually. But for now, I'll be trying to get a hold of myself and my life.
> 
> Thank you so much to Sarah, and to all of you who keep reading this. Keep commenting so we know what you think!
> 
> \--
> 
> Hey! I'm Sarah, aka LinnyBear, aka Livvia's girlfiriend/biggest fangirl. I'll be taking the reins for a few chapters, and hopefully I can do the story justice. Don't worry, Livvia's helping me through every step of the writing process, and will return when she's ready. In the meantime, I'm not sorry for any pain I inflict on everyone. Her included.  
> With infinite love, Sarah
> 
> \--  
> And, in case you need it  
> Thank you for existing


	16. Price of Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You have no idea what powers you hold, Bethany Hawke. You’re nothing but a mistake.”

Beth’s advisors and parents are bickering endlessly around the war table, but she’s too far away in her mind to pay attention. She’s received far too much information in such a short amount of time, and has no idea how to process any of it.

The mages are indentured to a Tevinter magister, who can use  _ time magic.  _ He’d supposedly used that magic to prevent Fiona from ever approaching her - and he planned to use it further. To do what, though? Reverse her closing the rift? Prevent her from escaping the conclave, leaving her to die? Would she even notice, if Alexius went as far as to have her killed in her past?

She shudders at the thought.

_ “I have no idea what my father plans with this magic, I’m afraid.”  _ Felix had said, once he finally joined them at the chantry, looking in much better health.  _ “I only know he needs to be stopped. And you need our help to stop him.” _

_ “And why should we trust you?”  _ Fenris did not stop glaring at either Tevinter man, justifiably apprehensive to be in the presence of both a magister’s son and (former) protegé.  _ “What do you have to gain in helping us?” _

_ “My father has a point.” _ Beth finally spoke, more confidently than she felt.  _ “We have absolutely no reason to trust anyone from Tevinter. Especially considering this requires you to fight against your own father.” _

_ “I understand. And I love my father and my homeland. But this - time magic, cults - it has to stop. No matter the consequences. I only want a safer Thedas.”  _ Fenris had snorted derisively, but Felix paid him no mind.  _ “And this is the only way I know how.” _

_ “Please, we really are your only chance here.”  _ Dorian had pleaded, more sincerely than she had heard him yet.  _ “I’ll meet you in Haven. That will give you time to make your choice. But do make it quickly.” _

And the decision is hers, ultimately. She knows that. She also knows that, regardless of the risks, the risks of inaction are much greater. Which is absolute shit, and she hates it, but she can feel sorry for herself later.

She takes a deep breath, pulling herself back into the present.

“We go to Redcliffe.” Her voice waivers, and isn’t quite loud enough to rise over the arguing. But Josephine notices her trying to speak, and holds up a hand, signalling the others to stop (with an extra hard look at Cullen’s direction).  So Beth tries again. “I said, we’re going to Redcliffe. We have to.”

“No, we are not.” Fenris is using his Dad Voice, which earns a scowl from Beth. As if he can do that to her here. “There are other options, Bethany. The Templars can -” 

“ _ No.”  _ Fenris actually looks taken aback as Beth practically shouts. “No Templars. That isn’t an option, period.”

“It has to be.” 

“It can’t.” Beth is leveling her father with a glare, but her arms are wrapped around her waist. “You want the Templars help? Go ahead. I can’t promise I’ll stick around.”

“And I’ll go with her.” Hawke locks eyes with her daughter, with a look that reminds Beth just how old she is. It makes her a little sad. “I’m not letting Beth out of my sight again. Choose the Templars, and lose both of us.”

“So what, then?” Fenris seems incredulous. “We trust these  _ mages _ ?”

“Yes,  _ Dad,  _ we trust the mages. I know that’s like, the worst thing in the world for you. Sorry that I happen to be one.”

“That’s not what I meant - “

“What did you mean then?” 

“Yes, dear,” Hawke has turns on her husband now, jaw tight. “I thought we at least had gotten past speaking to our child like she’s  _ inflicted _ .”

“I was never - These are Tevinter magisters, Hawke, you of all people - “

“Don’t ‘you of all people’ me, Fenris! This is our child, and you will  _ not  _ throw your broody temper tantrums at her expense!” Her voice is raising, and Beth feels hot anger and sorrow and hurt rolling off of them both. It makes her want to cry. Or perhaps vomit.

“This is not a tantrum!”

“What is it then? Because it sure seems like one.” 

“ _ Enough.”  _ Cassandra’s voice cuts through the room, leaving a silence so stark one could hear a pin drop. She takes a moment to sweep a glare across her company before she speaks again. “I agree with the Hera - with Bethany. Beth.” Beth, who has her mouth open to protest whatever the Seeker was about to say, promptly shuts it. “The mages need our help. And they have the most chance of giving us enough power to close the Breach. Helping the mages, no matter the risk, is our best option. Our  _ only  _ option.”

Beth gives her a thankful look, and Cass only nods in response.

“It’s dangerous, though.” Cullen adds. “If we lose the Herald, we lose our only chance of closing the Breach.”

“Then we do not lose her.” Cassandra says it so matter of factly, it seems as though it’s the easiest task in the world.

“I’ll be fine.” Beth insists. “It has to be me, though. I have to confront Alexius myself.”

“I’ll go with her.” Beth is still angry with her father, and wants to tell him and her mother to back off and let her deal with this on her own. But she also doesn’t want to make them fight again. 

“Fine.” Beth isn’t looking at anyone anymore, just staring at the map somewhere near Lake Calenhad. “We can decide who else comes once we have a plan. For now - “

“No you can’t just - stop!” One of the messengers - Jim, is it? Is at the door, chasing down a rather smug looking Dorian, who appears just in time to gracefully test the patience of every man in the room. 

“Do hate to interrupt, but I’m certain whatever you’re planning, you won’t get far without me.”

 

The trip back to Redcliffe is painfully silent. Beth is afraid to talk to her father, who seems intent on glaring a hole into Dorian’s back. She almost wishes she’d decided to bring Varric along - at least he would find a way to talk through the sound of footsteps, and help Beth drown out her own thoughts.

The plan is simple. She knows it’ll work. Or, that’s what she tells herself. She meets with Alexius, plays at making negotiations, Dorian and Leliana sneak in the back door with the Inquisition’s spies. The mages are freed, the Magister thwarted, and if the man is very lucky, he gets to leave with his heart still in his chest.

“You keep saying that,” Cassandra says to her, when the group finishes talking through the plan once again. “You don’t mean that literally, do you?”

Beth just smiles, and nods towards her father. She thinks she actually sees his lips quirk up a little. “You have read Varric’s book, right?”

Of all things, Cassandra looks more in awe than she is scared.

 

Redcliffe castle is twice as daunting as Beth imagined it. Almost involuntarily, she can feel a bit of her own anxiety reflected off of her friends as they’re led into the large throne room by a masked Venatori agent.

“Stop.” They’re approached by a man she assumes is Alexius’s acting squire. “The invitation was for Mistress Hawke only. The others will stay.”

Fenris opens his mouth to argue, but Beth shoots him a look.

“Whatever you tell me, you tell them. I’m not going forward without them.” And for the longest ten seconds of her life, she and the squire are caught in something of a staring contest, each hoping to intimidate the other into backing down. Finally, the man relents, and waves them forward with a drawn out sigh.

“Ah, my friend.” Beth tenses at the sound of Alexius’s voice. She doesn’t know it it’s her own nerves or her father’s, or a mix of both. “It’s so good to see you again!” He takes in the sight of her companions, and she hopes she’s just imagining the extra time he takes to consider her father. As if to answer her question, Fenris stepped forward to put a protective hand on her shoulder. 

Beth was never much of a diplomat. But somehow, she fumbles her way through being the best distraction she can, and her father only makes minimal snide remarks about “yet another magister taking what isn’t his” and “bloodthirsty mages who will enslave even their own if it suits them.” So, maybe he very nearly blows their negotiations altogether. It isn’t like they intended to actually strike a deal with the magister.

Dorian’s appearance into the room is as dramatic as it is appreciated, as Beth is certain they have reached the end of any peaceful negotiation. Alexius, however, does not seem as thrilled to see his former student.

“Dorian.” He eyed the mage, before his glare fell on Beth again. “What is this. What have you done?”

“This is us countering what is obviously a trap, Alexius.” Dorian sizes up the Magister, it seems, as he takes his place beside Beth.

She grips her staff a little tighter. “We won’t be negotiating with you. We’re taking the mages and leaving.”

Alexius laughs, the sound strikingly bitter. “And how do you intend to do that? You’re not more than a child, parading about with her parents across the countryside with a stolen mark - a gift you don’t even understand - and think you’re in control.” 

Beth swallows. Fenris edges closer behind her, and she can feel the sharpness of the lyrium coming alive just under his skin. He’s preparing to strike.

“You have no idea what powers you hold, Bethany Hawke. You’re nothing but a mistake.”

“A mistake you made, I presume?” Gone is Dorian’s usual swagger. He actually looks serious, and… a bit sad. “What are you doing, Alexius? This is exactly what you and I talked about  _ never  _ wanting to happen! Why would you support this?”

“A promise of power, a chance to spread his influence south?” There’s venom in Fenris’s voice, like Beth has never heard before.

“Father, please.” And it’s the first time Felix has spoken since they entered. “Please give up the Venatori, all of this - it’s not worth it.”

“No. I can’t. Felix, He could  _ save  _ you - “

“Save me?”

“ _ He _ ?” Beth speaks up, but Alexius is preoccupied with his pleading son.

“Father, I’m going to die.” Felix’s face is hard, and his voice thick. “You need to accept that.”

They share a long look. For just a second, Beth dares to think that Felix might have convinced him.

But then he turns to his men.

“Seize them.” He orders. “Bring the child to the Elder One, alive.”

But just as Beth lifts her staff, and her father and companions spring into defensive stances, the Venatori agents surrounding them fall, one by one, their own Inquisition agents standing behind them. Among them, Leliana drops two of Alexius’s guards, eyes sharp. 

“You’re men are dead, Alexius.” Beth keeps her staff trained on him.

“You.” There’s an anger in his voice now, as he locks eyes with her. “You are a mistake. You should never have existed!”

He raises a hand, and magic sparks from his palm, an amulet levitating just above it. Fenris lunges, Cassandra pulls Beth backwards, and Dorian shouts, sending a blast to prevent Alexius from doing  _ something.  _ More time magic?

She doesn’t have time to wonder. Fenris’s blow and Dorian’s magic combined knock the magister backwards, sending the amulet forward.

Beth tries to dodge it. Dorian tries to push her out of the way.

Something intangible wraps around her and  _ pulls. _

The last thing she hears is her father’s shout, “Bethany,  _ no!” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of trouble writing this chapter for some reason. I think I'm just impatient to get to the painful part. Which, you know, is next.  
> Let's see if I can get Livvia to regret handing this part of the fic to me.  
> Also the fenhawke argument was upsetting to write. I may have already started writing a makeup scene that might just be for my own benefit. We'll see.  
> with infinite love,  
> Sarah
> 
> So I hope you're all as ready to be heartbroken as I am. Because we all know what Redcliffe means.  
> Strap in for pain. I know I am.  
> Thank you all for existing!  
> Livvia


	17. Forest of Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Blood of the Elder One, where did they come from?”

It takes Beth a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, and for her to register that wherever she is, it’s very cold and wet.

A moment is all she has, however. Before she can even figure out where she is, two masked and armored Venatori agents are approaching, shouting at each other down the hall in alarm.

_“Blood of the Elder One, where did they come from?”_

Thankfully, Beth is not alone, and she and Dorian finish the fight quickly. Each keeping a steady barrier over them both, each firing blows of fire and lightening and anything to overpower their startled opponents. She’s surprised at how good a team they make, considering this is perhaps the third time they’ve fought together, and certainly the first time they’ve fought alone. She wonders absently if her father would be irritated to know this.

When it’s finally over, Beth takes her chance to look around. Still panting, soaked nearly up to her waist – and she sees why, they’re standing in at least two feet of water. But worse than that, they’re surrounded by horrible outcroppings of red lyrium, glowing a haunting crimson over them both. Some part of her, a part that’s terrified at the thought, finds it oddly beautiful.

“Fascinating,” Dorian finally says, genuine awe on his face where concern should probably be. “Displacement? I didn’t know such a thing was possible. For people, anyway.”

“You mean we’re still in the castle?” Relief washes over her. If she’s still in the castle, then they can return to the throne room to save their companions. “That’s good, at least. Where do you think we are?”

An odd look passes across Dorian’s eyes, both intrigued and – scared? – as he runs a hand through his dark hair. “Unfortunately, I do not think this is a matter of where we are, dear Bethany. But _when.”_

 

The deeper they go into the dungeons of Redcliffe castle, the further into the future Dorian’s speculations place them. At first, he had hoped for hours, insisting that was as powerful as the amulet could possibly be. Then, as they see just how much the lyrium had grown, he decides on weeks. Then months. And that’s as far as he’ll go, once he sees the fearful looks Beth gives him at each estimate.

“Don’t worry,” he insists. “This is reversible, I’m sure of it.” For the first time since he realized they had been transported, the look of wonder leaves his features, replaced with concern, and a bit of sadness. “And I’ll protect you, no matter what happens.”

That soothes her mind more than she’ll admit. Even though she wishes her father had been pulled into the rift with her, she is glad she’s not alone.

The lyrium, though, is almost harder on her mind than the worry for her family. It buzzes in the back of her thoughts, not entirely unpleasantly, and stronger than any lyrium ever has. Sometimes it gives her the urge to stop for a while and stare, or to reach out and just… touch. Varric had once described the red lyrium as singing. It’s the best description for what she feels.

They fell a few more Venatori agents as they wander, looking in door after door for some sign of either an exit or an answer. Word of intruders doesn’t seem to have spread throughout the castle, as each new cache of agents seems more surprised to see them than the last.

“At least us killing everyone in sight is effective,” Beth comments, earning a chuckle from Dorian.

Every so often, they pass a prisoner, and Beth’s heart breaks a little more for them. Some sing, or recite the Chant, summoning Andraste’s protection from darkness, or begging the Maker for death. Others just stare, hollow eyed, not quite seeing her.

It often takes all Beth has not to cry for them.

She recognizes few of them. Occasionally she sees the broken, rotting corpse of one of Leliana’s spies – Dorian pulls her quickly away from those, muttering something about moving on from the dead. Really, she thinks he fears the sight too gruesome for her (or maybe even for them both). In fact, the further they tread, and the more dangerous their future appears, the more protective he becomes of her. It irritates Beth, only because he takes more risks in their brief skirmishes, and she knows they’re both worse off if he dies.

At last, they come to an older part of the dungeons, where the red lyrium is thickest, wildest, strongest. She sees even Dorian shudder at its pull, and for the first time she can actually feel fear rolling off of him.

“I don’t think we’ll get far going this way,” Beth speaks up. “We should turn back. See if we can find a way out that isn’t so, you know… Red.”

“And risk getting caught and lyrium-skewered by the Venatori? No thank you.”

“We’ve done alright so far.” Which is true, only because they still have surprise on their side. She isn’t sure how long that would last. “Unless you want to get skewered by a lyrium-crazed prisoner instead.”

“Fine, fine, as you say, Great Herald. But if I become an abomination I’m blaming you. This chiseled jaw is hardly meant for demons.”

“Don’t worry. We’re much more likely to become lyrium monsters than abominations.”

“Ah, yes, thank you. Much better.”

“Always glad to offer a bit of optimism.”

Before they can return to the higher levels, however, Beth catches something in the corner of her eye, something she swears is familiar, and turns around for a double-take.

Her heart _stops._

She isn’t hallucinating. She can’t be, or else Dorian wouldn’t be staring as well.

_Dad._ Or, she thinks, swallowing hard, what Alexius has left of him.

His eyes are drawn, his face is gaunt, the whole of him thinner than she has ever seen him. The familiar lyrium markings along his skin have turned a sickly red, whether from red lyrium, or blood, or both, she truly doesn’t want to know. What’s worse, she sees, is that every few inches along the markings, deep red crystals of red lyrium seem to spring from his skin, surrounded by puckered scar tissue and some dried blood that suggests they’ve grown _from_ him rather than on him.

He hasn’t noticed them yet. Part of Beth doesn’t want him to, scared as she is of this lyrium-sickened shell that’s supposed to be her father. She wants to just move on and let him continue staring at the wall, staring into nothing. She hates herself for that, whether or not she and Dorian can save him.

Finally she swallows again, her throat painfully dry, pulse suddenly racing. “D-Dad?”

He looks up, looks _through_ her, and she shudders. She barely noticed Dorian’s hand falling on her shoulder.

Her father keeps staring. It feels like an eternity.

His face softens in recognition, finally, and he makes as if to reach through the bars towards her. “Bethany?”

But before she can respond, his face turns to hot, hate-filled, almost feral anger.

With a shout of rage, he lunges at her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish I could say I'm sorry for this and mean it. If it's any consolation, hurting my dear children this much hurts me, too.  
> With infinite love, despite the circumstances,  
> Sarah
> 
> I hurt my back this week by sneezing and I can't tell if my back hurts more, or if this chapter does. Next chapters probably gonna be some icing on the cake of wounds.  
> Maker, I love sarah. (Most no rebacks)  
> Keep commenting so we know what you think <3  
> Thank you all for existing!  
> Livvia


	18. Into Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beth gathers the pieces that Alexius left behind.

Dorian yanks her back fast enough she nearly stumbles, and he puts up a barrier around them seemingly without thought.

“So the red lyrium has driven him mad,” Dorian’s voice is soft, his hand still settled on her shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Bethany.”

She can’t even respond. All she can think is  _ no no no no NO. _

The wildness in Fenris’s eyes finally fades as he slumps against the bars of his cell. “Leave me be, demon.” His voice is low, cracking. “Have you not tortured me enough?”

And that’s enough to make Beth find her voice - she can feel hot rage and deep, wounding pain rolling off of him, wound around searing tendrils of some dull ache, like his lyrium but… Not. She can’t take it - she can’t just  _ watch  _ it. 

“Dad. I’m not a demon.” Her voice is steadier than she feels. “It’s me. It’s really me. It’s Beth. Alexius sent us forward in time - I don’t know how far but… Dorian and me. We’re going to fix this.” Disregarding Dorian’s warning look, the way he tries to grip her shoulder, she steps forward. Carefully, like approaching a wounded animal, she thinks, she places her hands over his where they grip the bars.

He jumps. Anger, fear, pain flash across his eyes, and then finally - relief. Recognition. He pulls one of her hands to his lips, tears prickling in his eyes.

“If this is a hallucination,” he breathes. “It is unusually cruel.”

“I promise I’m not.” She tears up too. She can’t tell if the tears are his or her own. “But then again, maybe that’s what a hallucination would say.”

He laughs, a pained, choking sound, and kisses her hand again. She twists her hand to cup the side of his face, running her thumb under his eye to brush away a stray tear.

“I thought you were dead,” He finally says. “I watched Alexius kill you.”

“You watched him send me through a time portal. Nothing worse.”  _ If you don’t consider watching your world destroyed worse. _

Dorian finally speaks up, but keeps his distance. “Hate to break up the reunion, but if we’re setting things right, we need to go, and now. Our element of surprise is wearing out.”

“Are you well enough to fight?” Beth asks, regrets that she has to ask. At his nod, she unlocks the cell with a brief flash of magic. “Then let’s go. We’ll find a weapon on the way.”

She hugs him, kisses his cheek, whispers in his ear one more time that they can fix this. She isn’t sure who she’s trying to convince.

 

Beth can hear a single voice as they round the corner into the next room of cells, clear and familiar, droning out what she soon recognizes as the Chant.

_ For she who trusts in the Maker, fire is her water.  _

“Cassandra.” 

In all her life, Beth could never have imagined seeing the Seeker’s eyes filled with such…  _ despair.  _ And worse than that, resignation. She bites her lip, fighting back the sting of tears in her eyes at the rush of pain and grief that washes over her from Cassandra’s cell.

“Bethany? Is that truly you?”

She looks down at the older woman, fingers curling around the bars of the cell. “It is. It’s me.”

“Maker forgive me,” Beth nearly chokes on the regret, the anguish in Cassandra’s voice, “I failed you, I failed everyone. The end must truly be upon us if the dead return to life.”

“I’m not back from the dead, Cassandra. We got… Sent forward in time. It’s hard to explain but we’re going to fix this I promise.”

“Forward in time? Does that mean… You can stop all this from happening?” A bit of the despair lifts from Cassandra, giving way to the faintest hope. It takes all she has not to throw her arms around the woman - even as ready as she is for the end, there’s still the barest bit of faith, just shining through. 

Beth can’t help it. It’s infectious.

“That’s the plan.” 

“After you… “ the Seeker swallows hard. “Alexius’ master. We couldn’t stop the Elder one from rising. Empress Celene was murdered, and the army that swept in afterwards… It was a horde of demons. Nothing could stop it. Nothing.”

Beth nods, steeling herself.  _ A demon army. Venhedis.  _ “That won’t happen. I promise, we’re here to  _ fix  _ this.” She steps forward, placing a hand on Cassandra’s shoulder. “But we need your help, if you’ve the strength to fight.”

And  _ there’s  _ the Cassandra Pentaghast she knows, burning just under the haze of red lyrium. “Always, Herald.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay on this chapter. Way to drop a bomb and then vanish right? But the next chapter won't take as long, I promise. Provided school doesn't suck as much and I don't get into any more car accidents (knock on every piece of wood you can find).  
> With infinite love!  
> Sarah
> 
> By Andraste's sacred holy vajoozles what is sleep idk look how good sarah writes im so proud. I should go pass out soon lmao this fic is only gonna get more painful love you all dont blame me ok.  
> Love, Livvia  
> thank you for existing


	19. Unafraid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beth faces the end, in the hopes of preventing it.

"What happened to mom?" It isn't exactly the way Beth wants to break the uneasy silence that's settled over them, but she needs to know. "Is she here too?"

Fenris's breath hitches.  _ Grief. Fear. Rage _ . All at once. 

"She... Is not." He begins. "She came for us, some months ago. Tried to storm the castle, like she does. She... She..." 

Beth stops. The others do, too, but none look at her, save Fenris. He places a hand on her shoulder, traces a calloused thumb over her jaw, but says nothing else. Beth fights for words - anything, even a  _ no that's not possible mom isn't dead _ \- but can't find anything to suffice.

"We will fix this, Bethany." Dorian says, finally. "But we have to move forward, or nothing happens."

She nods, pressing on and swallowing the hard lump of almost-tears in her throat.

They pass through several halls without incident, slowly climbing their way from the dungeons. No one else speaks. 

At long last, they pass into the upper corridors of the castle. Beth holds out an arm before they open the doors - she can feel the presence of at least a dozen lyrium-mad soldiers on the other side. "We're in for a fight," She whispers. "Be ready."

The fight is not as quick as she would like - something is so  _ off  _ about the soldiers, about the lyrium growing from their skin, eating at their minds, it's enough to distract Beth almost too much. She silently thanks the Maker for Dorian's barrier, that kept a blow from landing its mark on her, and snapped her back into the battle.

When the fight ends and they all have a moment to breathe, she realizes they're in an armory. Which is wonderfully convenient - or would have been if it weren't filled with soldiers who were now corpses. She scans the room quickly, internally cheering at the sight of shields, greatswords, what looks like a small cache of potions.

"Grab what looks useful," She says, still panting. "We'll need it, I think. I feel more soldiers down the hall."

Everyone nods, moving to the task of finding weapons that suit them. Beth starts to gather a few potions and herbs, slipping them into her pack. She watches her father test the heft of a greatsword out of the corner of her eye, and Dorian mutters to himself about the shoddy work of Fereldan staves.

A sudden wave of grief pierces through Beth. From the corner of the room, Cassandra makes a choked noise.

"Bianca," She breathes. Beth turns to see if she's alright and, sure enough, she's tentatively brushing her fingers over the stock of Varric's familiar crossbow. "Oh, Varric, my love..."

Cassandra is crying, and Beth's heart breaks. The weight of it is too much - her mother is dead, Varric is dead, countless others she doesn't even know are all gone for her in the blink of an eye, and her own anger and sorrow mixes with the Seeker's -

(and this particular pain has a familiar flavor, one she felt from a woman she met once in Wycome whose husband had died, as she traced her fingers across his sword).

Beth takes a moment to do what she rarely can, what she needs to, and she focuses inward. With everything she has, she steels her heart against any emotion, including her own, making herself as numb as she can to the world. It's the only way she'll press forward, the only way they will all survive to make this  _ right _ . This future will not be.

It can't.

"Let's go." She says, firmly. "Mourn them later. Fight for them now."

 

Leliana nearly makes her falter. The coldness in her eyes is closer to death than resignation, and Beth can't seem to reconcile this woman with the spymaster she knows. She can only shudder, though, as Leliana looks at her -  _ through  _ her - words ice along Beth’s spine: 

“I suffered. The world  _ suffered.” _

Her mother's bloody armor sits on display in the corner of the chamber. If Fenris notices, he says nothing. Beth numbs herself further.

 

Each new fight becomes easier and easier, the further Beth presses into herself. She's never been able to make herself this numb - if she could feel fear, she would be afraid.

Finally, finally, she can't hear the hum of the red lyrium in her mind any longer. 

 

Alexius does not seem surprised by their arrival.

“I knew you would come.” He says, resigned. As if he has any right to feel sorrow, or regret. “I  _ knew  _ you would appear again. Not that it would be now, but I knew that I hadn’t destroyed you.” He lets out a grieved sigh. “Another failure.”

“Was it worth it?” Dorian asks. “Everything you did to the world, to yourself - “

“It doesn’t matter now. All we can do is wait for the end.”

“An end you caused,” Beth’s fingers tighten around her staff. Beside her, Fenris’s markings begin to glow an eerie red. “I will undo this.”

“How many times have I tried?” He still won’t face her - she wants a  _ fight.  _ “The past cannot be undone. The Elder one comes for us all - it is over.”

The sound of a blade being drawn finally draws Beth’s attention. She never even saw Leliana move from her side, but there she is, with the shell of what was the magister’s son at knifepoint.

“Felix! Don’t hurt him!”

“Damnit all Alexius, what have you done?” Dorian snarls, magic sparking at his fingertips. 

“I saved him - he would have died!”

“He might as well be dead.” Beth lets her guard down, just enough to know - there is nothing left but a beating heart in the man, and barely that. 

“Please,” Alexius begs again. “Do not hurt him, and you will have anything you need.”

“The amulet.” Beth insists - the one she remembers from her Redcliff, before all this happened.

“It is done. Take what you want.”

“I want the world back,” Leliana says darkly, and before Beth can even shout for her to stop, she pulls the knife across Felix’s throat. 

“ _ No!”  _ And as if waking from a trance, Alexius attacks. 

 

He doesn’t fight with the strength of the magisters her father always spoke of. He fights like a man who knows he is dead - and welcomes it.

He falls to the ground at Fenris’s feet, relaxed from the paralysis of Beth’s magic only by the approach of death. Dorian kneels beside him, grief stricken. 

“He wanted to die,” He whispers. “All the lies, justifications… He lost Felix long ago. Didn’t even notice.” He’s far away, Beth thinks, and she hates to interrupt his mourning. 

But the amulet is heavy in her hands. And a glance back at her father - who isn’t quite her father, not the one she knows, even reeling from the surge of energy from battle he just looks  _ gone.  _

“I’m so sorry, Dorian. But we need to work.”

“Right.” He snaps back into reality, standing to look over the amulet with her. “This is the same amulet he used before - perhaps the same one we made in Minrathous. That’s a relief.” Beth hands it too him, and he studies it carefully. “Give me an hour to work out the spell he used, and we - “ 

“And hour?” Leliana practically yells. “We do not have an hour. You need to fix this  _ now.” _

To prove their point, the earth begins to shake beneath them, shaking rubble from the ceiling, the walls. A sickly screech tears across the air, and Leliana looks afraid, perhaps for the first time in Beth’s memory.

“The Elder One,” She breathes. “You have to go.”

“You cannot stay here,” Cassandra agrees. “We can hold them back. You must go. Now.”

“No.” Beth protests immediately. “You’ll die - I can’t let that happen!” 

“Look at us,” Leliana urges. “We’re already dead. The only way we live, is if this day never comes.”

“Dad… “ She looks at her father, wordlessly begging him to stay, to agree with her. 

But he doesn’t speak. Instead, he approaches, untying what she suddenly realizes is the red scarf he’s always worn on his wrist. It’s a bit more tattered, covered in blood - she isn’t sure how much of it is his, she doesn’t want to know.

He wordlessly takes her hand, kisses her knuckles, before wrapping the scarf around her wrist. “Dad, I can’t -” 

“Shhh…” He hushes her, pulls her forward into his arms. “It will be alright, I promise. You can save me still. I know it.” He kisses the top of her head. “You are so brave. And I love you so much. We will meet again soon. You, me, and your mother.” 

“Dad don’t do this. Please.” 

But he turns, and does not look at her again, as he and Cassandra stand ready at the door.

“Cast your spell. You have as much time as I have arrows,” Leliana shouts behind her. 

The dam breaks then - all the emotions Beth had been keeping under tight control come pouring out at once, and not just her own. She can feel Leliana’s resignation, her  _ hope  _ of all things, she can feel Cassandra and Fenris steel themselves. 

But she feels it all a hundredfold, with her own fear and sharp anger, and so much else she can’t fully understand.

She quiets it all. She focuses on her father. Even as the door closes behind him.

But Dorian is taking too long, far, far too long - the fight is wearing on them. He needs to hurry. They need to save them, to leave before they die, so she never has to see them fall. 

But.

But all she feels of her father is pain. There is nothing else - he is wounded, she wants to get to him but she needs to stay - he is wounded and fighting and worried for Cassandra and for her and he doesn’t have much left - a blow falls on him, he feels relief, and longing, and hope of all things to feel while he’s  _ dying  _  - 

And then, suddenly... Nothing. And that's worse than the pain, the regret, than the knowledge that he was leaving a child behind, suddenly she couldn't feel him  _ at all  _ no matter how hard she pushed, searching, hoping. 

And then she can’t feel Cassandra. And finally, she sees Leliana fall, a smile left on her lips.

She screams. She screams until her throat is raw.

Dorian wraps both arms around her, then, and shouts something she can’t make out, and before she can stop crying they are standing in the castle she knows, not a single stone out of place, nor a shard of red lyrium in sight. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Working on this fic has been honestly so amazing. Besides giving me a chance to break my girlfriend's (and all of your) heart/s with fiction, it got me writing again after a nearly year-long slump. Working with Livvia is always my favorite, and getting to adopt and sort of destroy her OC a little was just the push I needed. Isn't Livv great? I love her so much. (most no rb)  
> Which is to say, this concludes my part of the fic as far as I know. I'll still be helping plot and beta as much as Livv needs me (and rping in the background), and I have quite a few fics of my own in the works - including a few interludes for this fic - so I'll still be here to hurt you as much as you want <3  
> Thanks for all your support and comments, and stay super rad kids.  
> With infinite love,  
> Sarah
> 
> I need you all to know that I planned half this shit and it still hurt me to read it.  
> What have I done.  
> Thank you for existing  
> Livvia


	20. Jumping Back, Stepping Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to their own time.

_ Alive. _

 

_ Alive. _

 

_ Alive. _

 

She can feel them all returning as if their heartbeats were her own. Each falling into place with the rhythm of the world exactly where they’re supposed to be.

 

_ Alive. _

 

_ Alive. _

 

Even the ones too far away to see, she can almost feel them beside her. Lighter, freer, smothered in all the wonderful trappings and pains of living but not fearing. Oh, thank Andraste they’re not fearing or hurting.

 

Not anymore.

 

_ Alive. _

 

Beth’s eyes find her father’s across the room as she finally --  _ finally  _ \-- is able to breathe again. Dorian lets go of her and it’s a miracle she doesn’t stumble. The spell burned away her tears, leaving her looking fierce and wild as she counts out the living and singles out the soon-to-be dead.

 

“You’ll have to do better than that.” Dorian smirks at Alexius as he and Beth step closer.

 

There’s fear in the magister’s eyes. Beth and Dorian should be ghosts, gone but not forgotten, instead of the flesh and blood stalking toward him. He falls to his knees and the room is silent.

 

“We’re finished here, Alexius.” Beth’s voice holds more calm then she feels. “We’ve bested your spell.”

 

“You won,” The defeat and shame are heavy in his voice. “There is no point extending this charade.” He turns to his son. “Felix…”

 

“It’s going to be all right, father,” Felix knees beside him, taking his hand. 

 

“You’ll die.”

 

“Everyone dies.” 

 

Beth doesn’t want to watch this. Not after there’s still so much blood on her hands. Her eyes find Fenris again, where Cassandra is barely holding him back. His eyes are still green, his markings are still a white-blue, and he’s still whole, breathing, alive.

 

Beth clings to that.

 

“Glad that’s over with,” Dorian says lightly as a group of Inquisition soldiers detain Alexius. Dorian’s face falls at the sound of marching. “...Or not.”

 

Two lines of Ferelden soldiers enter the hall in sync, stopping once they’ve made a clear entrance. From between them, a blond man emerges in fine leathers and furs.

 

“Grand Enchanter,” The man’s eyes fall on Fiona where Leliana’s been steadying her. “I’d like to discuss your abuse of my hospitality.”

 

“Your Majesty.” Fiona steps forward.

 

Beth inches toward her father, glad to have the spotlight off herself for the moment; but for once his eyes aren’t on her. He’s staring at the king and itching where he stands. When Beth touches his arm, he nearly jumps.

 

“Stall him, Bethany.” Fenris breathes, breaking away from the group to grab what looks like a pen and a slip of paper.

 

Beth opens and closes her mouth, but turns back to King Alistair.

 

“We did not give you the right to drive our people from their homes.” He’s glaring down at Fiona. The elven mage is fidgeting nervously, caught.

 

“King Alistair, I assure you, we never intended…”

 

“Good intentions are no longer enough.” He holds up a hand. “You and your followers have worn out your welcome. Leave Ferelden or we’ll be forced to make you leave.”

 

“But we have hundreds who need protection. Where will we go?” 

 

Beth lets out a breath.  _ He did say to stall _ . She pushes past Cassandra and Dorian until she’s between the king and Grand enchantress, though they don’t seem to notice her until she speaks up.

 

“The Inquisition can take them in.” 

 

Eyes are on her again. Disbelief hangs in the air. This isn’t her place, shouldn’t be her place. She’s a child speaking past her years and station, and Maker is it written on everyone’s face. Alistair clearly doesn’t even know who she is.

 

But she needs time. And they  _ do _ need the mages.

 

“Forgive me, your Majesty.” She bows to Alistair before straightening up and trying to look more confident than she feels. “I am a Bethany Hawke, representative of the Inquisition, the Herald of Andraste.” Her name seemed to catch his attention, but it’s the title that bites at her tongue, like an admission she wants to refuse, that captures him. But holding out her marked hand as proof carries the weight she needs when it’s spoken. Shock is on Alistair’s face, but it’s enough to tell her she’s got him. “We can take Fiona, and the Mages. We can protect them.”

 

“And what are the terms of this arrangement?” Fiona seems doubtful, glancing at Cassandra.

 

“Hopefully better than what Alexius was offering you.” Dorian mutters under his breath. “The Inquisition  _ is _ better than that, yes?”

 

Cassandra motions for Beth to continue, and for a moment the words get caught in her throat. She’s not stopping her. She’s not taking over. She’s waiting, watching to see how Beth will handle it.

 

“It seems we have little choice but to accept whatever you offer.” Fiona resigns herself.

 

Beth squares her shoulders. “They will join us as allies.”

 

“A generous offer. But will the rest of the Inquisition honor it?” Fiona lifts her eyebrows. Beth doesn’t blame her; who would take the word of someone who’s only seen sixteen years?

 

“The Breach threatens all of Thedas. We need your help. I doubt we can afford to be divided.” Beth’s hands are fists at her sides, fingernails biting into her palms to keep her focused on the moment. “We can’t fight it without you. We need your full support. We need you by our side.”

 

She lets her eyes settle first on Fiona, a promise, and then on Alistair, a challenge.

 

“It  _ is  _ a generous offer.” Alistair tips his head up. “I doubt you’re going to get a better one from us.”

 

Fiona looks from Beth to Cassandra, then to the few of her mages with them in the hall. “We accept. It would be madness not to. I will gather my people, and ready them for the journey to Haven. The Breach will be closed. You will not regret giving us this chance.”

 

Fenris hurries to Beth’s side as Fiona turns away. “Your highness, “ he says before Alistair can leave as well. “Before you go--” He holds out a piece of paper, folded to hide his shaky writing.

 

Alistair eyes him wearily. “What is this about?”

 

“It’s for your wife. From mine,” Fenris insists. When Alistair still doesn’t take it, he clarifies. “I am Fenris Hawke; my wife is Marian Hawke --  the Champion of Kirkwall. Please, your Majesty.”

 

Alistair’s eyes widen before he gives a brief nod. “Very well. Thank you, serah.” He takes the note and relief washes through Fenris (Sweet Andraste, Beth can’t get over how nice it is to feel him  _ feeling _ things again). 

 

Alistair and his men leave first, clearing the way while Leliana gives orders to a few Inquisition scouts to scour the castle. Beth, meanwhile, takes a moment to untie the scarf from her wrist and tuck it safely in her pocket before installing herself at her father’s side.

 

She takes his hand, laces their fingers, and reminds herself for the thousandth time in the last five minutes that it’s alright; they survived.

 

They always survive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad to be back in the saddle. I'd like to thank my wonderful gf, Sarah, again, for taking over for a bit there. Her arc of the story was wonderful and sad and hurt me in great ways.
> 
> I also want to thank my friends in the Enabler's chat for being so supportive and great.
> 
> I'm just getting over a bad cold, so I'm still a bit dizzy from coughsyrup. Maybe I should go lay down.  
> -Livv
> 
> But hey;  
> Thanks for existing <3


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